As (Always)
by IncorrectPetunia
Summary: AU: Formerly the one-shot, 'Royals', now called 'As (Always)'. Olivia is still a fixer, but Fitz is a university president. This story starts in year 3 of marriage. It explores their future and their past, with a strong emphasis on their erotic lives (not just sex).
1. Episode One: Royals

**Royals**

" _If I untie you—"_

"_When. When you untie me. Because we both know that you will...untie me."_

* * *

**Earlier that evening...**

"No, no, 'fun gay', is what she called it," said James, correcting Cyrus's account of a colourful conversation they'd had with a woman weeks prior to this evening.

"Well, whatever she said, she didn't know what she was talking about. I'm so tired of these straight people thinking that being gay is one endless bacchanal. It's as if all we do is have orgies filled with poppers and 'shrooms." Cyrus chuckled as he took his last swig of vintage red wine. "Breeders!"

He angled his glass just as James was in the middle of turning around to re-fill said glass.

"Present company excluded, of course." Cyrus held up his now full glass to toast the beautiful couple in whose home they were gathered.

Olivia and Fitz were not nearly as tipsy as the couple who sat across from them. They were enjoying the show. It had been a while since they both saw James and Cyrus so...loose. The two exchanged knowing smiles.

"No offense taken," Olivia said, holding up her free hand, smiling brightly. The other hand busied itself crawling up and down Fitz's vertebrae, skimming the horizontal edge of his curls before diving into the thicket of his mane.

Fitz distracted himself from Olivia's ministrations. "Uhh, aren't you two the only breeders in this room?"

Olivia giggled, covering her nose "Where is Ella tonight, by the way? I'm surprised you two could so easily make this impromptu gathering."

"She's with her new nanny, Marta. Cy and I are being 'fun gay' tonight."

"As opposed to every other night," zinged Olivia.

"Livvie!"

"What? I'm simply making an observation."

Olivia loved teasing Fitz while they were in public, all the while appearing to be appropriately behaved. His scalp was her playground. Olivia raked her nude-colored fingernails against Fitz's scalp, spelling out the words _fuck me_ with excruciating precision and agonizing reserve. Fitz tightened the hold he had on Olivia's prim waist, giving her a winning smile as he turned to her. The storm clouds of desire brewing behind his eyes forebode a warning and a promise.

_Stop It. We're in public, look away_, she coolly communicated with her eyes. She then looked to Cyrus and James to save herself from his gaze.

"You two aren't really on the 'scene' anymore. Are you?"

Cyrus considered her question before answering.

"We were never really on any scene exactly. The two of you have not been together as long, but..." Cyrus trailed off as he looked wistfully at James, who lightly patted Cyrus' knee to continue.

"We're actually more 'normal' than you would think. James, of course, was an absolute slut—"

"You watch your mouth, Cyrus Rutherford Beene! I just took a liberal approach to looking for my Mr. Right. Sue me, I'm a Democrat. Had I known Republican campaigns were teeming with repressed gays, I would have found you sooner."

"No you wouldn't, but I'm glad you did."

The two exchanged a chaste kiss.

"I spent my 'fun gay' years between the thighs of a woman. Thirty years looking at the same vulva and I never really figured out how that thing worked."

The beaver talk caught James, a gold star gay, by surprise. Before he could stop, an involuntary ruby shower sprayed Cyrus's oxford shirt in an instant. The Pope-Grants were seated on the ecru linen sofa while the Novak-Beenes were ensconced on the vintage, peacock blue, crushed velvet love seat. Luckily, the upholstery was saved, as Cyrus's shirt bore the brunt of James's liquid-filled outburst.

"Oh, look, honey, I created a Jackson Pollack!" James's body shook with laughter at the clever pattern.

Sensing another imminent accident, Fitz jumped up to retrieve James's wine glass from his hand.

Cyrus was snapped out of his buzz, frantically reaching for something with which to salvage his shirt. "Shit, James! This is the new Brooks Brothers one you bought me."

James was hysterical by this point, tears falling from the sides of his eyes.

"Cyrus, let me get you some club soda from the kitchen for that. It's best if—"

"No, no, Liv. This is one mess you don't need to clean up."

"Fine. I left a nearly full bottle alongside the Du Bellay. Right next to-"

"The bar."

Olivia nodded.

James recovered from his fit of laughter in time to chase Cyrus. "Honey, come, let me help you with that. It's my fault. You'll need to take your shirt off to fix this. Go to the bathroom. I'll be right there with the club soda. Liv, you have wash cloths in there, right?"

"Of course we do," Fitz shouted as James retreated.

* * *

Alone again for the first time in hours, Olivia chuckled softly against the rim of her wine glass.

It delighted every bone and every fleshy part of Fitz's body to see his wife smile, to hear her laughter. Every other utterance he could elicit from her would always come second to the pure joy her laughter brought.

"I know. They're in fine form tonight." Fitz chortled. "That image of Cyrus between a woman's legs—"

"Is burned on my brain," Olivia finished.

They both laughed to the point of sighing.

"I'm glad I put down my glass of Bowmore before Cyrus went on his vagina rant. Otherwise, my single malt would have been all over your chest, if not your neck and face, too."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you sprayed something all over my face and neck," she smirked before turning to place her wine glass on the mahogany coffee table.

"Olivia..." he warned.

Olivia had her back to the end of the sofa, and stretched out her naked feet to place them in Fitz's lap. She tried to dig her toes between Fitz's upper thighs for warmth.

"What? My feet are getting cold. Don't you want to give me some of your heat, Fitz?"

Fitz stared down at her. The velvety cognac of her face was a celestial wonderland: the cheekbones of a goddess; the high forehead of a prima ballerina; eyes as bright as an innocent doe; and she had the most beautifully full pout he had ever seen. She had full control of its power, and used against him, like she was doing now.

Fitz removed her feet from his thighs, and in an instant he was between hers, hovering ever so close to her face. Olivia could smell the warm whiskey on his breath. Every part of him was mere millimetres from touching any part of her. She had never met a man whose very proximity was so intoxicating, so threatening to her constitution.

Fitz grabbed the wrist resting on Olivia's abdomen, pulling it up to join the one behind her head. He lowered his head so that only the tips of their noses were touching. Looking over the fineness of her features, he said, "Let me ask you something, Mrs. Grant..."

She closed her eyes and released a breath directly into Fitz's slightly opened mouth. "Anything, Mr. President." Her hips tilted up in search of the touch she craved.

She hadn't been playing fairly all night. The grazes to his scalp, the scratches on his neck, the caressing of his second most sensitive erogenous zone—his ears—so why hadn't he seen that phrase coming? He dipped his hips down slightly, still a whisper from pressing into her core. She shivered at his closeness.

"How come you have had the same glass of red wine all night, and it is still nearly full?"

Her eyes popped open. "Because...I have plans for you. For us. I want to make sure I am fully lucid to feel everything you're going to give me later tonight."

"That's big talk coming from such a small person."

"Oh? Mark my words: you will regret that later."

"I hate you."

"I hate you, too," Olivia returned.

Just as Olivia's tongue slipped between her lip for Fitz to capture, they heard voices down the hall. Olivia remained as she was. Fitz sat back, crossing his thighs away from Olivia and out of view from where Cyrus and James would be sure to sit.

"Am I brilliant, or what?!" an energized James declared. He was carrying Cyrus's now damp shirt in triumph, holding it up like those scantily clad women at boxing matches who hold up the numbers announcing each round.

Cyrus let out a pregnant sigh of satisfaction. "There's no doubt about it, sweetheart."

"Look at that! You can stop sweating now, Cy. Not a trace of Du Bellay on you. It's official, James: you are brilliant," Fitz offered.

"Indeed." Olivia quietly observed the parents of her only Godchild. James seemed to suddenly be in a hurry while Cyrus was the picture of casual vacancy, a stupid closed mouth grin on his face.

James was already motioning to get their belongings. "Cy will you check the front window, please?" I instructed the driver not to honk his horn when he arrives. Not in this neighborhood. I don't want the neighbors accusing them of noise pollution in the morning."

With faux indignation, Olivia replied, "Are you calling us snobs?"

James patted down his jacket and jeans looking for his wallet. "Oh, honey, I wish I were. Instead of being in Georgetown, with us, you're here in Takoma Park with all these crunchy, well-to-do lesbians, organic farmers markets, and oversized wrap-around porches. Do I need to remind you that this is a hairsbreadth from Maryland? Mar-y-land!" he scoffed.

Olivia could do nothing but double over in laughter, nearly falling off her own sofa. It had been a year since the move, and James still refused to let it go.

Fitz stood up. "What a shame. We were going to ruin you over a game of _Scrabble_. Cy, you can't go home like that in that old man t-shirt. We'll dry your shirt. I'll get you one of my pullovers."

Guarding the window, the car's headlights swept briefly across the glass, illuminating Cyrus's reflection. He could see that his forehead indeed percolated with sweat, and his cheeks appeared slightly dewy and youthful. He casually wiped his brow as he turned to Fitz.

"No need, my friend. We're already gone." Cyrus quickly opened the door to waive a hand to the driver before turning to collect James.

"Keys, wallet, phone, jackets. Ok, we're good, kiddos" James said as he gave his surroundings a once-over glance. "Let's do it again, soon!"

* * *

"Did Cy seem suddenly distant to you?" Fitz wondered aloud as he and Olivia moved between the lounge and the kitchen, clearing the evidence of their couples evening.

She placed the cheese board back in the refrigerator before turning to Fitz. Shaking her head as she approached him, Olivia wrapped her small arms around his torso. "Fitz? I love you, but you are really naive." She craned her neck to look into this eyes. "It's cute. Most of the time."

He gave her a light slap on the behind and she squealed. Before she could wiggle out of his embrace, he brought both hands down to her ass to lift her. Her legs did what they always did, finding their rightful place around his waist. Fitz groaned and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Grant?"

Her core was tantalizingly close to what had been prominent in her mind for most of the evening. Fitz dug his fingers into Olivia's ass a little deeper, forcing her to feel how primed he was to take her.

"Do you think it takes thirty-minutes to clean red wine from a shirt? Cyrus got a blow job. I think you're very familiar with those, mister."

"First, Cyrus mentions staring at vaginas. Then you mention me, Cyrus and 'blow job' in the same breath. Too close. He's like my uncle. Can we just...not?"

She chuckled lowly into his ear before placing a kiss just below his earlobe. "But you like both those activities."

"Obviously, but only when they specifically concern you and me."

"Well, Mr. President, I do have a number of concerns that require your attention. That is, if you're willing to take that meeting." Her hands roamed in his unruly tendrils.

Not having properly kissed her in hours, Fitz hurried for Olivia's lips as he backed her up against the wall. Their tongues began wantonly plundering the booty of one other's mouths. Fitz pressed himself further into Olivia's body as she dug her feet into the top of his firm ass. She wound her hips desperately against the bottom of his torso. Feeling his dick swell against the partition of her cheeks, Olivia grew hot and slick with her own arousal. The scent of her heat aroused Fitz like nothing else. He brought his hand to the button on her trousers, eager to decant her aroma.

"Is making you come against this wall one of your _concerns_ this evening? Because I can cross that off your agenda." He breathed against her swollen mouth.

"Fitz..." she breathed back, pushing softly at his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut to guard against losing control for what was to come next.

"I'm going to get ready. In twenty minutes, I want you naked and waiting for me downstairs. Literally, the only thing you should be wearing is your wedding band."

Fitz arched his brow in interest. _Downstairs? These concerns are serious_. He licked his lips before smirking, earning a thirsty growl laced with a chuckle from Olivia.

"Can't wait."

* * *

Fitz was certain Olivia was late, but had no way of telling just how late. Clocks and phones were barred from their adult playroom. They had been exploring their kinkier side for less than a year, nearly four years into their marriage. Their demanding schedules ensured that the room remained a rare treat for them. Their room reflected what true neophytes they were, compared to some of the wild set-ups they had seen on the Internet. Their most elaborate purchase: a small, four poster bondage bed with lots of metal hooks in the frame for securing restraints was the exception. A medium sized ottoman at the foot of the bed held a small collection of toys and kinkster sundries, much of it unused so far. This wasn't a sex dungeon, so much as a playroom for exploration. Fitz and Olivia were enamored with the psychological sense of control and power of bondage rather than with the elaborate equipment.

Three tall wall mirrors, a Kashmiri rug, an armless leather chair and a hanging rack for whips, crops and paddles decorated the otherwise sparse room. Olivia recently draped large Pashmina shawls over the top of the bed's canopy and added an indecent amount of candles to the space. Every one of them vanilla. Fitz lit them all, making the space warm and inviting for Olivia's arrival.

A titillating vision, she appeared in the room and quickly closed the door. Fitz took in the sight of her get-up from bottom to top as he eye fucked her. The shoes were familiar: black patent leather with the impossibly skinny heel that closed their 10-inch height gap to just five. Black nylon stockings attached to a black lace garter, complimented the ruched material of which her bra was made. It tied in a little satin bow at the back of her neck. He'd wager that the bra matched the panties, which he could not see. They were obscured by something that amused and aroused him: a pleated, burgundy leather skirt so short, it left half of her ass exposed. _Cute_, Fitz thought as he absentmindedly licked his lips, _but it's definitely the first to go._

" Do I need to remind you of who's in charge tonight?," Olivia could see he was clearly plotting how to denude her.

"I'm just taking you in. Is that wrong?" he tried to save.

Olivia tried hard to resist being melted by him so early into their playtime. Having a naked Fitz at her complete disposal was an occasion to savor.

She palmed his face, and Fitz whispered, "I love you". Olivia responded by taking his lips between hers. Their tongues danced with languor, sucking, teasing, licking. Olivia wanted this moment before she drove Fitz to his absolute limit.

Olivia could feel Fitz's dick engorging against her lower abdomen, which encouraged her wetness. She slipped her fingers over his hears and reluctantly pulled him back from her mouth. They were breathlessly in sync.

"Are you ready?"

"'Mellie', right?" Fitz confirmed their safe-word before beginning the scene. A boner-halting term that signalled distress and alarm, this was their safe word. If either one of them said it, all action would immediately cease. That word was all that remained of Fitz's annulled first marriage.

Grabbing the leather riding crop from the wall, Olivia brought it down into the palm of her hand. "Right. Now, on your feet," she demanded.

Olivia slowly circled Fitz before standing in front of him again.

She ran the pad of her thumb over his parted lips. "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

She slid the riding crop from Fitz's clavicle down to the base of his length, along the underside of his shaft until she came to the tip of his head. A drop of his arousal spilled onto the leather. Watching this paragon of masculinity shiver under her ministrations, Olivia said, "I want you to touch yourself for me."

He didn't expect her to want that. "You want me to masturbate...while you watch?"

"Don't be cute. Just do as I say."

Fitz obeyed immediately, grabbing the fullness of his cock into his left hand. He closed his eyes and conjured images of the times he had made this same request of Olivia.

Before sitting in the armless chair to enjoy the evening's opening act, Olivia trickled lube onto Fitz's fisted dick. The slick coating made his strokes feel a little more like the suction of Olivia's mouth, or the sweet friction of her walls.

Olivia watched him, becoming wetter by the second. Every muscle in his body rippled. The veins in his neck pulsed. His mouth hung open and his head tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut.

"I bet I know what you're thinking about."

"You," he said, his eyes still fastened shut.

"Then look at me."

Fitz bit his lip at the sight before him. He was right, the panties did have little ties on the side. Olivia made quick work of removing the scrap of cloth. Her sex glistened with her arousal, and he was the only cause.

A gravelly growl escaped his lips as Fitz stroked himself a little faster.

Olivia dropped the riding crop. She brought a finger to part the lips of her slit before diving into opening with two fingers. She massaged the wetness around her folds, shivering each time she passed over her clit. Now it was she who was imaging him.

"Fitz, I love your cock. I love the way it feels in my mouth. The way you taste. How thick the head is. Seeing you touch yourself makes me so wet." She ran her other hand up her abdomen and quickly grabbed one of her covered breasts.

"Yeah?" Fitz moaned. He could barely take the sight in front of him. Olivia's writhing about and dirty talk never failed to spur him rapidly towards orgasm.

"Take that off," Fitz demanded.

"No."

Olivia took her fingers into her mouth and licked each one of them slowly, with her eyes closed. She knew what this would do to Fitz. He needed to be reminded of who was in charge.

She grabbed the riding crop off the floor and strutted demurely over to stand behind Fitz whose eyes were now closed. Olivia reached through his thighs and cupped his balls, enjoying the feel of the weight in her hand. "Did you just give me an order?"

Fitz sputtered. "No, Mistress. No."

Releasing her hold on his sack, she stepped back and swiftly brought the riding crop down on his firm ass. "Did you just give me an order?!" Another strike of the crop.

"Yes, Mistress."Fitz relented but the sexy command of her voice with the force of her strikes brought himself even closer to orgasm.

Standing stark naked and slightly bent at the knees, Fitz still had several inches on Olivia, yet she was an intimidating figure to him. She grabbed his hair and yanked his head back before licking the length of his neck up to his ear.

"I wanna hear you say that again."

"Yes, Mistress."

The cooling sensation of her breath over the moisture left by her mouth contrasted detectibly against the flush of heat everywhere else in his body. "Liv..." Fitz grunted though his teeth. "I'm so close. Can I see you?"

"No."

Every denial brought him closer to the edge. Fitz was rock hard and damn near purple from his need to come. Olivia raked her nails up the sides of his hairy thighs. He fisted his cock tighter, using short fast thrusts sure to catapult him to completion. Olivia pressed herself against his back, keenly aware of the lack of friction to her needy clit. But watching him pleasuring himself was making her lustful in a way she hadn't imagined. He was carved like Michelangelo's David, but hung with something more to her satisfaction.

"You are **not** allowed to come. Do you understand me?" It was wicked, and they both knew Fitz wouldn't be able to follow this directive. But the thrill of the threat was most important.

Ensuring failure, Olivia reached around to tug one of Fitz's nipples with one hand, the other massaged the area just behind his sack. Peeking around his shoulder, Olivia could see the tell-tale signs of his impending orgasm. His breathing was even more shallow; his sack drew closer to his body; and his taught abs undulated with his impending climax. His face scrunched tightly. _Yahtzee_.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!"Fitz cried out as he came. The creamy white substance spilled down his hand and onto the floor.

Olivia held him tightly, laying the side of her face against the fresh perspiration of his back and inhaled deeply. She continued to hold him, fingering his chest hair until his breathing was back to normal, until she could feel all the tension from his orgasm dissipate.

* * *

"You got to come and I didn't. Very naughty. You must like being punished because that's the second order of mine you have disobeyed. And since you are a repeat offender, I'm going to have to restrain you for what comes next."

Still on his knees wiping up the mess he made, Fitz looked up to Olivia with a playful dare in his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would. I will. I'm going to."

Olivia reached into the pleasure chest behind her and retrieved two items: a dildo, and a set of black, neoprene neck and wrist restraints for Fitz. She placed the dildo on top of the chest before waltzing in front of him.

"Stand up," she ordered.

He stood to his full erect height. Naked and vulnerable in this erotic scene, his gaze lingered affectionately over every inch of Olivia's form. He desired this woman. He was utterly besotted with this woman. He would do anything for this woman. But truth be told, he was a little afraid of her at this point.

"Wrists together in front of you, Fitzgerald."

Bested, he did as he was told. The high collar tightened like a belt at the back of his neck, leaving him plenty of room breath comfortably. A cloth column reinforced with metal boning extended from the collar down to Fitz's lower abdomen. Evenly spaced metal hoops were embedded into the center of the material, serving as places to fasten the wrist restraints. Two straps at the bottom of the column secured behind Fitz's back to limit his movement once his wrists were fastened to the bottom hoops. He sat back on his heels after being restrained.

Slap. Slap. Slap. That was the sound the dildo made each time Olivia absentmindedly struck it against her palm. She was too busy looking down at her husband's dilated pupils. He wasn't in any real pain, but Olivia was determined to frustrate him to the hilt. The precise measure of cruelty was the only question on her mind.

"Livvie...what are you doing with that thing?" His nervous tone knocked her out of her daze.

"This? It's not for you; it's for me." Olivia stood the dildo up by its suction base and spun it around in her palm by its tip. "Remember when you were in Japan for two weeks about a month ago? The time difference was awful. My bullet and other vibrators all reminded me of your absence. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend I had a piece of you inside me. I couldn't very well do that with my wrist cramping from all that thrusting. So I bought this bad boy. Pretty good match, don't you think?!"

Olivia petted the toy proudly before fastening the base to the large wall mirror across from Fitz.

Replete with balls, veins and even a very bulbous pink head, Fitz couldn't deny how realistic the thing looked.

"But, Livvie, you've got me here, live..." he looked down as he neared full extension once again, "and in the flesh."

Olivia strode over to Fitz. She reach down to grab his chin in her open hand, and moved in close to his face.

"Such a pretty mouth you have, Fitzgerald. I can't wait to hear what sounds you make as you watch me bounce on a cock that's not yours." She smiled. His smugness: vanquished. "Now, it would be such a shame to have to gag you. That would ruin it for the both of us." She ruffled his curls. "Enjoy your punishment."

Olivia turned around in front of Fitz and removed the pleated leather mini encircling her waist, letting it drop to the ground. She slapped her ass cheeks upward making them jiggle. Looking back at Fitz over her shoulder, she gave him a quick wink.

"You are evil, but so damn sexy," Fitz confessed.

He simultaneously made her clit stiffen and her cheeks warm. For that he would get a small treat. Olivia reached down to gather the evidence of her wetness on two fingers. She eased them into his mouth. "Do I taste ready to you?"

It was the first bit of her he'd had the chance to touch or taste since they had started the scene. Fitz sucked on the citrusy zing coating her fingers like he hadn't eaten in days, not wanting to let them go. Olivia watched his eyes as she plunged her fingers in and out of his mouth. The intensity of his gaze, the eager caress of his tongue sent little volts of electricity through her body. She pictured his tongue rippling through her folds, darting in and out of her pussy. She looked down at his twitching cock, turgid once again. She could so easily mount him right now and ride him like a cowgirl into oblivion.

"Please," Fitz begged with praying hands. Whereas he got off on it, Olivia couldn't abide begging. He wasn't ready. She withdrew her fingers.

Facing Fitz, Olivia bent at the waist and arched her back in front of the dildo. She reached behind her and moved the head of the toy back and forth between her sodden lips. She hissed at the torture she was inflicting on herself, let alone on her poor husband who could do nothing but sit there and watch.

With hooded lids, she met Fitz's stormy stare. Inch by inch, she pushed back onto the full length of the thick head of the dildo until she could feel the cool touch of the mirror. Beginning a slow back and forth pace, Olivia gasped, surprising herself, "Oh fuck, I wish this was you." She reached behind her, artlessly grabbing the tie at the back of her neck, suddenly very aware of how confined her pebbled nipples were.

Fitz breathed like a bull facing a matador. She was bent over in his favorite position. He'd sell every worldly possession to devour just one of her bouncing, tear-shaped breasts. Damn it. This punishment felt unfair. And excruciating. By now his dick fully curved upwards, the swollen head tickled the edges of his hands. He literally could not touch himself to bring about relief. He was solely at Olivia's mercy, which, knowing her, is exactly how she wanted him.

Olivia rested her hands on her thighs as she began to piston with greater speed on the toy. "I bet you wanna fuck me just like this."

"No. Better."

The hunger in Fitz's eyes pierced her like a laser. She flooded the toy with wetness for her husband.

He was desperate to feel her against him. Fitz decided to hurry this along. "You see, I would slap and knead your ass as I watch you take all of me inside you. Again and again. I'd go so deep, tears would well up in your eyes. I'd make you so overcome with lust that you'd want to crawl out of your skin. But I wouldn't let you do that."

The images in Olivia's head of her husband fucking her just the way she liked, combined with the fact that he was forced to watch her, had her feeling high. Her eyes squeezed tight as she felt herself hurtling toward capitulation.

"Oh, god. More..."

"Instead, I'd wrap your hair around my hand and pull you up against my chest. I know you like that. And I'd lick the column of your beautiful neck. The walls of your cunt would be pleading with my cock for you to come. And having no mercy on you, I'd caress the shell of your ear with my tongue as I tapped away at your clit until—"

Reaching between her legs to put her over the top, she massaged her clit. "Fitz, I'm gonna..." She stiffened , squeezing her legs and knocking her knees together as her walls convulsed around the toy. "Uuuuuggggghh," Olivia groaned and shook as her whole body hiccupped with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Nevermind his ears, Fitz's entire face was flushed with longing and frustration at seeing Olivia come without him. To no avail, he ferociously tried to gain relief by bending over to rub the edges of his clasped hands against the head of his penis. Near delirium, Fitz felt on the verge of tears-so full was his desire to be joined with Olivia. He begged to be untied. In response she had gotten on her knees to take the toy into her mouth, licking off the creamy essence of her own pleasure. She watched him through the mirror. He yanked and pulled at his restraints, his breathing growing violently rapid. That's when she knew she had reached the summit of what he could take. Plus, she missed him.

Olivia's hair had spilled forward into her face. Through the curtain of hair, she could see her poor, desperate husband on the floor. She clawed back tendrils to look up at the ceiling, silently praying that she'd be able to walk tomorrow after she and Fitz were done with each other. She licked her dry lips.

* * *

They had finally made it to the bed. Fitz lay, still restrained, on his back trying to concentrate on breathing through his heightened state of arousal. _She's absolutely trying to kill me_. That was Fitz's primary thought as Olivia, now straddling his waist in her stockings and garter belt, coated his lower abdomen with the evidence of her earlier orgasm.

His hands remained clasped in front of her sex. Jutting out his two pinkies underneath her, he began ticking the tender hood of her clit. Galaxies of goose pimples erupted all over her body as she shuddered in surprise.

Fitz angled his body to capture one of Olivia's distended nipple into his mouth, finally letting it go with a pop. Before Olivia could denounce the insolence she very much enjoyed, Fitz pushed further.

"I can smell you."

"And?"

"I want a taste. May I?" he smiled.

"Oh, we're using manners now? I do prefer that to begging."

"I don't."

She sighed. "You were doing so well, Fitzgerald."

He clamped both lips shut and shot her his best puppy dog eyes.

Olivia leaned down with her hands splayed above Fitz's head to kiss him. She gently skimmed his top lip with hers and he released an unexpected breath before capturing her lips with surety. He kissed her with an unhurried longing; as if his dick, purple with need, wasn't twitching against the crevice of of her bottom. The feel of his tongue had Olivia doing a slow grind on top of him. She ran her fingernails down the peaks and valleys of his muscular arms until she came to his wrists.

" If I untie you—"

"When. When you untie me. Because we both know that you will untie me. That you've been planning, yearning for that moment. All night." Feeling a surge of power, he chuckled "Your need is written all over you. I've smelled it, licked it off your fingers. And though I have loved every second of being your captive, when you untie me..." He took a moment's breath to calm himself and look darkly into her flushed face.

"What?"

"Well, the 'what' depends on when you untie me."

Turned on by the mystery of how he would pleasure her, Olivia freed Fitz's wrists, and released the belted closer at his back. He immediately grabbed the sides of her face, the part of her he most longed to hold. He pushed back wisps of her hair to gaze into the sunlight of her eyes, unafraid to be blinded by them. To be lost in them. To find himself reflected in them. He blinked to refocus and reached to kiss her once more.

"Livvie," he said, running his thumb from her mouth down her chin, through the valley of her breasts, until he reached her belly button. "I am going to fuck you into complete dismantlement."

"Yes."A frisson of anticipation shot up Olivia's spine igniting a hunger for him that immediately required sating.

Fitz hoisted Olivia up by the waist to mount his face. "I'm going to start with this pretty little pussy of yours. How many licks does it take to get to the center of this Tootsie pop?" How he could be so sexy and corny at the same time, she would never understand. Before she could contemplate, the slick underside of his tongue had her gasping as it flicked backwards over her engorged clit. The stubble of his chiselled chin sank into the depths of her entrance. She clutched his curls for dear life.

"Jesus, Fitz, I don't wanna... I...I want you inside me when I come," Olivia pleaded while continuing to extract every ounce of pleasure his face had to offer. The tension coiled tightly inside her belly. Her sensitive nipples: tumid with need. No longer required to follow her orders, he locked her hips in place. Fitz plundered and pillaged his way through her folds until she was coming all over his mouth. "Fiiiiittttz..."She nearly crushed his skull from involuntarily clamping her thighs.

Minutes later, after kissing her nectar from his mouth, Olivia realized he was still wearing the neck restraint. She worked to quickly remove this and toss it on the floor. Wet, open mouth kisses she planted all over his neck to soothe his discomfort. When her lips caressed his crimson ears, Fitz lost it. He grabbed his cock and coated himself in her wetness before lining up at her entrance.

She had waited as long as he had for this moment. Every tease and every punishment she had meted out was leading to the mortal pleasure of having him buried deep inside her. She looked into his eyes as she sank down onto him in one slick move. Fitz sprang up, feeling the need to hold her by the frame, whisper her name. "Livvie."They shuddered and groaned, savouring the feel of one another as their bodies adjusted to finally being joined.

That first thrust always felt like an arrow being shot through her system. Instead of dying, it made her keenly aware that she was living. Yes, his dick gave her life. That's what she felt there on top of Fitz, meeting his every upward thrust with a downward swivel of her hips. His inquisitive hands relished their newfound freedom as they sought ownership of every part of her supple flesh. He landed on her pillowy backside with a double spank of his hands.

"Oh, God," Olivia called out.

"I've missed you. Missed this" Fitz breathed out. Then the sweet torture began. Using her ass as leverage, he repeatedly lifted Olivia up so that only the tip of him remained inside her only to slam her back down. Soon, the spindly arms gripping his chest gave way. She collapsed into his neck as he moved a hand to hold her back.

She cooed and mewled at the feel of having her whole body in contact with his. His body hair was setting her on fire. Her nipples rubbed against the silken mane of his chest. Her swollen clit tickled against the brush of his groin each time he thrust deep inside her. The lingering woody, amber notes of his cologne mixed with the musk of his sweat, left Olivia deliriously carnal and unable to speak.

Fitz's clenched mouth burst into a roar at the feel of Olivia's teeth sinking into his neck. He grabbed the back of her hair by the root to bring her face in line with his.

"Look at me." She did.

"Don't close your eyes." She wouldn't.

Staring at her, open mouthed, with a religious reverence, he needed her to come apart before he did. Fitz worked his hips overtime; his dick stridently coaxed Olivia toward the crest of her climax. She could barely keep her eyes open to look at him. She was at that place and he knew it. Fitz brought her head down to the side of his face. He accessed the deepest part of his baritone for her.

"Come for me like a good girl."

And suddenly she had arrived. A sweet surrender, it felt not unlike falling. _La petite mort_ silenced her so that she came—not with a loud groan as she had earlier, but—with an almost imperceptible squeak of her husband's name. Fitz knew, always, just how to please her.

No more than a minute later, Fitz had succumbed to the intense tsunami of warm, wet and pulsating wave after wave Olivia's orgasm gripping around him. He spilled himself inside her as he held onto her for dear life.

* * *

Olivia moved to lay half her body over him, nestling her face into the side of his sweaty neck. She kissed him there and licked the salt from her lips. Fitz kissed her forehead.

They lay there, sex funky, sated and happy, until sleep threatened them both. Their playtime was always fun, always exhausting.

"I love you, too," Olivia yawned out, snapping Fitz out of his sleepy haze.

"What?"

"I love you, too. I didn't say it back to you earlier. It would have softened the whole dominatrix thing I had going on."

"Which I loved, by the way." He kissed her forehead.

"You wouldn't think so, ya big hunk of insolence." She playfully swatted his chest.

Always amazed at his strength, or maybe just at how petite she truly was—she was after all the formidable Olivia Pope, whose reputation loomed larger than her physical stature—she squealed as Fitz hoisted her above him like he was going to bench press her.

"Come on, you love my insolence. Then you get to punish me. Admit it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I only admit to loving you."

"Aww, you're madly in love with me. You wanna have, like, ten thousand of my babies." He smiled that boyishly handsome grin of his, and Olivia melted a little bit.

"Let's just start with this first one, shall we. Now put me down, you brute!"she wiggled to weaken his strength.

Fitz brought her down gently to rest back on his chest, his arms cloaking her in his love. What he loved the most was right there in his arms. He'd never leave her, nor forsake her.

Suddenly, he realized the weight of what Olivia had just said.

"Livvie, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

* * *

**A/N:** So...hey. This is my first time writing fan fiction, and also my first time writing erotica. This story popped in my head and I had to tell it. I would appreciate your honest feedback-good or bad. Thanks. I might have another one-shot in this vein, if there's interest.


	2. Episode Two: About Last Night

**About Last Night**

"_Last night, what happened…You think it was wrong, and that I'm-"_

"_Were you… I mean, did I hurt you?"_

"_You were afraid."_

"…"

"_Would it help you to know that I've never come so hard in my life?"_

* * *

_**Six months before '**_**Royals**_**'**_

_**Wednesday morning**_

Wet. Olivia was wet and warm. And she was crying. She promised she wouldn't do this, but here she was crying and hugging herself under the pulsating jet stream of her shower head. The sight of gelatinous maroon clots slithering down the drain made her eyes squeeze shut even tighter. She could discern the feel of the tears from the water's warmth. The tears stung with mockery. Was she being punished for what she did with Fitz last night? Fitz. She had pretended to succumb to the sweet post-coitus wave that usually follows her orgasm, but she was wide awake under the guise of sleep.

"Hi."

Olivia froze.

She hadn't heard the bathroom's door open. She must have left it ajar, so careful was she to not wake him.

Fitz reached for the shower door's handle. Their joint showers, which frequently turned into playtime, were mostly a weekend or holiday luxury. He wasn't thinking of that now. Shortly after climax last night, he had felt an emotional fissure between them. He would not let it fester. He needed the reassurance of her closeness. For what seemed like hours last night, he watched her chest rise up and down, willing her to stir, have a bad dream, something to disrupt her sleep so he could get her attention. He had no idea what time he had finally fallen asleep. How could he sleep after what he'd done to her. Her hands had been on his ass as he penetrated her in the deep and strong way that she loved. In his head, he recollected her eyes. Her hands moving to his hair. He told her how beautiful she was. Ran his thumb over her lips, and grabbed her face. And then things took an unexpected turn, one that still had him confused and slightly frightened. They needed to talk.

"Fitz, no. Please, I'm almost done. The jury's back from deliberation today on Senator Meyer's case. I need to make sure my team is prepped for either result. I just need some time to focus. Can we talk later tonight?"

He sighed, understanding. "OK. Don't leave without telling me, please?"

She was definitely avoiding him. He knew Olivia. Her team was already prepped for either result.

"Fitz..."

"You seem different, Olivia—distant since last night. You're avoiding me."

"Fitz," she sighed. Her consternation was firm and persuasive.

The consequence of a good marriage, Fitz thought, is that you know your wife as well as she knows herself. You recognize her bullshit tactics before she's ready to admit to them.

"Liv," he said, trying not to get exasperated, "I'm going to shower down the hall. But we will talk. I think you owe me that." He closed the door gently as he retreated. The thick steam of the shower, fragrant with the smell of now wilting hyacinths, permeated the silence of the room. The water was turning cold. Olivia's lip trembled, and her skin pricked with goose pimples. She lifted her head toward the heavens.

"What am I doing?"

* * *

_**Tuesday night...**_

_The hour was late. Six weeks had passed since the last stitch of renovation was sewn up, but Fitz had grown accustomed to parking on the street due to the contractors' skips and vans crowding his driveway. As he pulled up beside Olivia's Audi, Fitz could see that most of the lights were off, save for the soft glow emanating from the master suite. It made a change, as he frequently arrived home before his wife._

_"Livvie?" Fitz called out to the darkness upon entering his home. He removed his camel-colored mohair coat, a gift from his wife upon being appointed President of Georgetown University. His first annual meeting with the university's Board of Directors had run on for nearly three hours, 90 minutes longer than he had planned. It had exhausted him, and given him a new set of worries to mitigate._

_He hung his coat in the mudroom's closet before heading toward the kitchen. He wasn't hungry. Food was always provided at these meetings. What he needed was a finger, or two, of scotch to relax him. But mostly, he wanted to spend some time with Olivia. The kitchen was last to be completed. He fumbled with the control panel on the wall containing all the switches and buttons needed to control the electrics downstairs. The panel itself was back-lit with a luminous blue light. Distinguishing the writing below each button was another matter. Finally he pounded a button, lighting up the range hood. A note awaited him there:_

"I ordered from that new Lebanese place. The lamb was a bit heavy. Too much cumin, maybe? I left a plate for you in the fridge. XOXO."

_He smiled and put the note in his pocket. She could so easily text him with this information. The fact that she continued to leave these notes made her that much more adorable. He poured his Bowmore, then headed upstairs to Olivia._

_Olivia lay in their claw-foot tub, her eyes closed, listening to the somber notes of Miles Davis's genius through the bathroom's built-in speakers. The music was soft, and through it she could hear Fitz padding into the master suite. The swagger of his lazy gait turned her on just as much as his firm and confident strut. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, alerting her to his nearness. His impending arrival triggered a smile._

_"Well hello, Dolly."_

_She had been expecting him, yet still his baritone jolted her nipples to attention. They peeked out above the water's surface, creating a vivid contrast with the milkiness of the bath. Fitz stood directly behind her. She looked up to see him take a swig of his drink as he lowered the volume of the music to near silence. She involuntarily arched her back, tilting her head further toward his thighs. This made her breasts and the top of her rib cage fully visible above the water. He smiled down at her smiling up at him._

_"Hi, beautiful."_

_"Hi, handsome."_

_"Am I leering?"_

_"A bit."_

_"That's because I've got the best view in all of Washington. Mind if I objectify you for a moment longer before I kiss you?"_

_"Baby, as much as it turns me on when you stare down at me like that, my neck can't take much more of this." She raised her neck before continuing. "Why don't you pull up that stool next to the tub and objectify me from there. You can even tell me about your day while you do it. A two-fer! But first..."_

_"Yes, ma'am?"_

_"Kiss me." Fitz reached around her and tilted her head back once more before bending down and taking her lips for the first time after a 14 hour day. By instinct, she reached a wet hand out to run through his curls. Fitz quickly jerked away from her. Olivia playfully splashed him in retaliation, causing them both to chuckle._

_With the stool in his hand, Fitz smirked in that lopsided way that she found so irresistible. At times she wanted to pinch his cheeks, other times slap him, and still at other times hold those same cheeks as her tongue played double-dutch inside his mouth._

_Fitz seated himself on the stool, which, like virtually everything else in the room, was a shade of white. Olivia had muscled in her preference on most of the house's renovations. Using his craftiness, he was able to surprise her with a few details in their master bedroom. She was adamant that the bathroom reflect a cross between clinical and Nantucket white. The translation of this turned out to be a rainbow of white, absent any cheesy rope, molluscs, or anchor themes._

_"Sometimes I think you wanted this bathroom completely white so that you'd always be the most vivid thing in it." Fitz playfully observed._

_She returned a broad smile. "Well, I think those flowers have outshone me this time."_

_He turned his head to see a short, bulbous crystal vase filled with striking flowers whose fragrance permeated the room._

_"Purple hyacinths this time?"_

_"I know. Blame Elizabeth Cadi Stanton..."_

_Fitz scrunched his brow as he took a sip of his drink._

_"I had to track down Mrs. Meyers, or should I say Elizabeth Cadi Stanton, as was the fake name she used to check into a hotel. Before I could finally manage to convince her to take the stand on behalf of her husband, she regaled me with a story about wanting to cheat on her husband with some guy with beautiful thighs. She hates her husband, by the way. Speaking of whom, I fully expect him to beat the murder charges tomorrow, so long as Shelley delivers on the stand."_

_"Of course you'll win. You're the best." Fitz reached to kiss her forehead._

_"Don't congratulate me just yet. What I didn't tell you is that I advised Mrs. Meyers to get a divorce. Senator Meyers has a problem. He's not a good guy." Olivia sponged her arms. "So, yes, hyacinths were all Tommy had left. Well, those and a bevy of carnations and white roses. Clearly the carnations were out of the question. And white roses—"_

_"A choice-less choice, essentially."_

_"That sounds a little sad. Let's just say I was drawn to these above all the rest."_

_"Except purple hyacinths are practically the equivalent of white roses."_

_"I haven't decided if I love or hate the fact that you have such an extensive knowledge of flowers. But I take comfort in the fact that you still haven't grasped the spectrum of colors. That, my love, is not purple; It's lilac."_

_He stared at her incredulously for a moment, thinking that lilac was most certainly part of the purple family. "But..."_

_Olivia pivoted away from an unnecessary quibble over something that was an obvious fact. "I know your view is to die for, but would you mind loofah-ing my back?"_

_Fitz loosened his lapis colored tie, sprinkled with tiny—almost imperceptible—buttercup hued polka dots. He tucked the end inside his shirt. His sterling, monogramed 'FTG III' cufflinks were the next to go before folding back the sleeves of his textured, white oxford._

_The sight of Fitz's muscular forearms, with their network of slightly raised blue-green veins, caused Olivia's belly to quiver. She began conjuring a familiar moment: him between her thighs, holding himself up with those strong forearms, peering into her soul as his dick tunneled into her with purpose. The bath water was cooling, but Olivia felt the warm flush of desire creeping up her neck. She shivered, allowing a whimper to escape her lips._

_"Are you cold?" Fitz asked from behind her. "I'll turn some more hot water on."_

_"No, don't. I'm ready to get out of the bath."_

_Fitz grabbed a white bath sheet to wrap around Olivia's petite frame, along with a smaller towel._

_Olivia stood, like Aphrodite, her hand tenuously embracing the bottom swell of one breast. Her hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, and loose, wet tendrils clung to her youthful neck. Her skin gleamed, befitting her grace._

_"Fitz! What are you—" she said in surprise as he scooped her up into a bridal carry._

_"Shhhh," he ordered with a smile. He then kissed her perfect nose._

_Olivia flung her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled into this neck. His fragrance—woody, musky and green all at once— though faded, made her heady. She had an urge to bite him. "Mmm, how do you still smell so goo-"_

_She was interrupted by being unceremoniously plopped down onto her side of the bed. Hers was the side closest to the bathroom. "You must not work very hard for a living if you smell almost as good as when I kissed you good-bye this morning."_

_Fitz opened the bath sheet, unwrapping Olivia like a delicate present. "Not very hard at all. Running a prestigious university with roughly 18,000 students, 1,600 faculty, and three campus locations? Piece of cake." Fitz stared at her face while he used that smaller towel to dab at the moisture on her neck._

_"Tell me about your cake walk of a day, then, mister." Olivia lifted her arms at an angle for Fitz to pat them with a towel._

_"I'm going to Japan. That's about the most exciting outcome from the Board meeting. It should be a productive trip. I'm told we have excellent donor prospects out there. Tokyo, in particular. A ten percent increase in the endowment is only going to happen if I pursue every credible opportunity. We're setting up a partnership with the Ministry of Education in Osaka as well."_

_Fitz was now working on Olivia's legs. Raising each one gave him an excellent view of one of his favorite spots to luxuriate. His cock twitched at the thought. Kissing the bottoms of her feet, he announced, "All done"._

_Propped up on her elbows, Olivia congratulated him. "Japan?! That's exciting. The money is, of course, great news, and the educational partnership could open up new avenues of cultural exchange for Georgetown. When are you leaving? And for how long?" She frowned slightly at the thought of an absence that would be longer than a few days._

_"Three, maybe four months from now. We're still negotiating. For how long, we haven't decided."_

_"Fitz, you are going to make a great president, one of the finest Georgetown has ever known. I have it on good authority that you're certainly the sexiest." She grabbed Fitz by his loosened tie, bringing him down to her for a scorcher of a kiss. Her tongue caressed his over and over again in a dance so familiar, yet always so electric. He kneeled at the side of the bed, not wanting to climb on top of her in his clothes and shoes. Her hands roamed over the sinewy muscles in his back, the planes and ridges of which were only marginally obscured by the shirt he wore. God she wanted him. To be taken by him, completely and totally. This enigmatic arousal had sporadically penetrated her thoughts all day. Some featured new scenarios, toys, and taboo acts. Things she's never tried. As quickly as they came, she tried to banish every instance._

_Fitz wanted to make love to her. Seeing the moonlight beaming down on her body through the skylight in the bath had reinvigorated him after a long day. He reluctantly pulled away from her lips. "I'll be right back." Olivia watched him swagger to the bathroom, her lips still mourning the sudden loss of his mouth._

_Fitz returned with his crystal tumbler of scotch, but without his shirt. Gone, too, were his slacks, which had now been replaced by his favorite blue, pinstriped pyjama bottoms._

_"What do we have here? Don't tell me you're all snuggled up for bed."_

_"Why don't you come find out." There was a glint of mischief in her eyes._

_Fitz set his drink down on Olivia's night stand. He pretended to peel back the covers slowly before suddenly snatching them back, like ripping off a band-aid. Feigning shock at her naked body, Fitz said, "Why, Mrs. Grant, I do believe you're after something."_

_"Question is, will you give it to me?"_

_"And how."_

_"Preferably deep. And hard."_

_Fitz wasted no time crawling over Olivia's frame, straddling her hips. He reached for the Bowmore and instructed, "Open your mouth." Dipping two of his fingers in, he spread the amber liquid over her pillowy lips. He continued a brief path with the liquid, spreading it down her chin and neck until he reached that little hollow at the base of her neck. He lapped up the liquid in a reverse trail back up to Olivia's mouth._

_Olivia's hips gently writhed at the feel of Fitz's warm tongue on her skin. "More," she pleaded._

_Seeing her eyes dance with desire, Fitz once again dipped his index and forefinger into the scotch. "Suck."_

_Fuck if the boom in his baritone didn't fan the flame building inside her. Olivia brought her head up to capture Fitz's fingers, his orders spurring her on. Her mouth clamped his fingers firmly, until her lips were down to his knuckle._

_"Fuck," Fitz remarked at the sight of her. By now, Olivia's thighs were splayed as far apart as she could get them, the bottoms of her feet touching. His dick twitched in his pants as it grew to capacity from watching her eagerly fellate his fingers. But it was the gleam in her eyes as she did it that really drove him over the edge._

_Fitz retired his glass to the table, and reached his left hand back to run his fingers through Olivia's folds. She was slick and swollen as his fingers glided effortlessly through the valley of her cunt. "You naughty girl. What are you thinking about?"_

_He moved both his thick digits to her entrance, pushing inside her. Olivia released her grip on Fitz's fingers, moaning at the feel of him filling her. With his fingers inside two of his favorite places, Fitz couldn't decide if he wanted to fuck her mouth or devour her like a last meal._

_She ached for him. "Fitz," she pleaded as she thrashed her head from side to side. Her upper body bucked for more. He leaned down closer to her. Pursing his lips, he brushed them against Olivia's ear. A soft stream of his breath whispered in her ear, causing her whole body to prickle with passion. "Did I tell you to stop?"_

_Olivia looked back at Fitz, biting down so hard on her lip she thought she could taste blood. She coyly shook her head._

_"I want you… to tell me that you want what I want." Fitz started massaging her clit with his thumb as his curled fingers continued to stroke her walls. He was driving her insane with need. Her mouth opened in surprise and pleasure. She was under his spell._

_"Your mouth is open, but that's not the invitation I'm looking for. Tell. Me."_

_"Put your fingers in my mouth."_

_He kissed her deeply instead, the intoxicating mix of him and the scotch swirled around her tongue. Fitz ended the kiss and smiled wickedly down at her. He pulled his fingers from her saturated cove, deciding to give her those fingers instead. She gazed at him defiantly._

_"I'm jealous. You're getting a taste before I do. You have no respect."_

_Olivia's mouth was full, but her body shook with laughter, compelled by his corniness. Fitz felt the vibration of her amusement around his fingers, causing him to break character for a moment, too. Things turned serious again when Fitz reached back to gently pinch her clit. She turned her head, releasing his fingers from her mouth. Olivia was undone. Feeling his cock inside her was the imperative she would now doggedly pursue. She reached inside the band of his pyjamas, springing his member free. She tried to temper her ragged breathing as her tiny hands moved up and down his stiffening erection._

_"Fitz... fuck me. Now."_

_His arousal escaped the tip of his dick, making Olivia's hands wet. There was nothing he wanted more than to be buried to the hilt inside her, but he decided to test her resolve, and his restraint, to the limit._

_"Uh, uhn, uhn. That sounds suspiciously like a demand, not a request."_

_Olivia's face was a vision of innocent mischief: her eyes were wide and blinked with exaggeration. Before he knew it, she tugged on his bottoms until all that she desired was completely exposed. He moved off of her like lightning, discarding his pants on the floor. Message received._

* * *

_**Wednesday evening...**_

The salmon and eggplant hues of dusk's waning light loomed in the sky as Olivia exited her car. Gone was the high from today's win with Senator Meyer. She'd barely had any time to eat, let alone dread the conversation she needed to have with Fitz. She picked the wrong night to be capricious in the bedroom. She had no idea he would have such deep feelings about the whole thing. The surprise cramps that overwhelmed her in the middle of the night had changed her focus. She resented Fitz for wanting comfort from her when all she wanted to do was soak in her distress. Eight months. She really thought it was going to happen this time. Now she would have to spread that disappointment to Fitz, too. Again.

Olivia opened the mail drawer to see that Fitz had already sorted today's mail. Nothing important by the looks of it. It was then that her eyes spotted a large glass of red wine sitting next to a packet of tampons. There, too, was a note:

"_I knew you would have a busy day. I'm upstairs. I miss you."_

Her heart swelled. _This man_, she thought, as she shook her head. He'd let her get away with nothing, not even self-indulgently punishing herself for what she regarded as failure. After grabbing the wine and the tampons, Olivia went in search of her husband.

Fitz sat on their California king-sized bed, his back against the padded linen headboard. Since arriving home early—two hours before Olivia—Fitz had spent most of his time reading on his iPad. He left his clothes on, discarding only his jacket and shoes.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Thank you," Olivia said as she held up her Crate and Barrel glass, and the tiny box of tampons.

"Come here," Fitz beckoned sympathetically.

"Yes, professor," Olivia smiled through slightly glassy eyes. She placed her wine glass on her night stand and crawled over to Fitz's side of the bed, still clad in her grey Armani suit. She reached up to Fitz's face and removed his reading glasses before giving him a sweet, soft kiss. Fitz held her gaze as the back of his hand brushed her smooth cheek. He could see flecks of bravery, worry, but mostly vulnerability, swirling about in her brown eyes. Olivia let her gaze slip.

""What are you reading?"

Fitz immediately pushed the sleep button on his iPad. "Nice try." He scooped her up into his lap.

"You knew."

"We've been married for three and a half years. We've been trying for a baby for, what..." Fitz did the math in his head.

"Eight long months," Olivia finished.

"Just eight months," Fitz revised. "I pay attention to more than just your ovulation days."

She regarded him curiously. He was an attentive husband, but not that attentive. "This set is perfect for spring. I was going to change the bedding this weekend, but I see you got to it before me."

"It was my turn to make the bed this morning."

Olivia played with the collar on his shirt and waited patiently for the admission.

"You had a little accident...only small." _There we go_, she thought. She shook her head and chuckled.

"But the rest of it I put together. Don't I get points for getting the right brand and size of tampons at least?"

"Fitz, you've been buying me those for years."

"Because you ask me. This time I showed initiative."

Olivia couldn't stop laughing into his neck. That laughter being Fitz's favorite sound, he just held her torso as her body shook at his expense. He looked down at her face, thankful that he hadn't been a coward five years ago. The moment was light, but they still needed to talk about what was bothering him. He held her slightly away from him so he could look into her eyes. He needed to know if it bothered her, too, or was her moroseness solely about not being pregnant.

"Livvie, I know you are prepared to sacrifice your body for our child. I need you to know how much that means to me. But you—you alone—are enough for me. Too much, sometimes," he smirked. "The only way you could fail me would be to completely deprive me of your love." He moved her long fringe away from the side of her face before continuing. "I want to see your face in our little girl, or boy, so much it hurts. It only hurts because I love _you_ so much. To think of any part of you being replicated in someone we create together, is just...It's..." Fitz tried hard to swallow his own emotion in order to give Olivia what she needed. "It's everything. Whether that happens naturally or by intervention, we are in this together. That means all the joy and all the sorrow. Don't leave me out of any of it. Please." Fitz held her firmly once more.

Olivia held him just the same, letting the intensity of her grip speak the words she did not have. It was a language Fitz understood well.

Olivia extracted herself from that serene embrace and straddled Fitz's thighs so she could face him. Fitz drew his legs up, trapping Olivia mere inches from his face.

"Fitz, I've gotten lipstick and mascara all over your collar."

"That's what dry cleaners are for."

She kissed him sweetly on the lips before admitting, "I need a lifetime with you. Anything else would just be scratching the surface. "

He booped her nose, which never failed to make her smile. "Now, talk to me."

She took a deep breath knowing where this was going. "Haven't we already talked about this," she listlessly protested.

"Olivia, don't be cute. You know exactly what I'm referring to."

She hadn't even articulated to herself why what Fitz did to her felt so good. Too good. Scary good. She struggled with where to begin.

"Last night… What happened…You think it was wrong, and that I'm-"

"Were you…I mean, did I hurt you?" Fitz interjected tentatively.

"You were afraid," Olivia pinpointed.

Fitz said nothing, but instead reached for his iPad.

"Would it help you to know that I've never come so hard in my life?"

* * *

_**Tuesday night...**_

_Olivia had flipped herself onto her stomach, arching her back for Fitz to enter her. Enveloped by a maelstrom of carnal desire, sensual love-making was too decent to sate this feeling. She needed pure animalistic fucking. She wanted him to be aggressive with her. To fuck her senseless until the tensions her Epsom salts bath had failed to soothe were gone._

_Fitz hovered over her back like he was doing a push up. He ran the underside of his cock along the ridge between Olivia's cheeks. Olivia spread her legs and undulated her hips as she readied herself for him. Feeling the whispering closeness of his hard body against hers produced ribbons of wetness, in which she opined for him to partake._

_Fitz began nibbling the side of her neck. He grabbed his dick, knowing how much she wanted it, and began saturating himself in her wetness over, and over, and over again._

_"Fiiiiiitz!" Olivia cried out in frustration._

_Fitz chuckled darkly in Olivia's ear. "Turn around. I like to see you all spread out before me. I want to see your face when you come for me."_

_Olivia turned over. Fitz grabbed a pillow off the floor to place under her lower back. As soon as she was in place, Olivia grabbed Fitz's cock and lined him up at her entrance. Fitz eased himself inside, relishing the feel of being one with her again. Like telling her he loved her, it was a feeling he would never tire of. Fitz grabbed Olivia's calves and held them up in the air with one hand. The other he used to knead her petite breasts._

_Olivia's hip movements were not in time with Fitz's. She was moving faster than he seemed to want to go. "Harder, baby, please. Just fuck me," she keened._

_Fitz began giving her hard, deep strokes. She had to admit being on her back was never a bad position. Her husband's body was lovingly sculpted. He needed a haircut. The errant curl that bounced against his now sweaty forehead was driving her wild. Everything about him was driving her insane with need. The way his biceps bulged as he held onto her calves. The way his lips curled to reveal the determined grit of his teeth. How arresting his gaze was as he pistoned in and out of her with purpose._

_"Oh, God. Closer, I want you closer." Olivia rushed out, pinching her nipples as she angled her body closer to Fitz._

_He knocked Olivia's legs apart and spread his arms on either side of her torso. She brought her hands down to his spectacular ass as he pumped into her. Soon one hand found purchase in his damp, curly nape. Their tongues cavorted wantonly in and out of each other's mouths, licking any body part available to them. Suspended in a haze of lust, he couldn't get enough of her, and she wanted to feel him everywhere at once._

_Olivia moved the hand on Fitz's ass to massage her clit. He was giving her everything she needed. She was almost there. Fitz grabbed Olivia's chin and jaw line in the 'V' of his hand. He spoke gruffly in her ear, "That's my job."His voice was gravelly, his eyes tempestuous. This was a 180 degree turn from the earlier Fitzgerald who stared at her with adoration as he held her in a bridal carry. That Fitz warmed her heart. This Fitz made her want to come so hard._

_Caught in the moment, Olivia grabbed his hand and eased it further down to grasp her delicate neck. She continued to stroke herself as Fitz's dick now pummeled into her. She could feel that she was hurtling towards one of the best orgasms she'd had in a long time. Her tiny hand did its best to clasp Fitz's reluctant one in place. Her lids became heavy with lust. She was a bomb waiting to detonate. Before she could contemplate her actions, her orgasm exploded inside her. It ricocheted through every part of her body, reaching to her toes, her fingernails, even her eyebrows._

_The combustion of Olivia's orgasm pushed Fitz closer to his. He hurriedly removed his hand from her neck. Instead he placed both hands underneath her shoulder blades, holding her firmly to his chest as his hips pumped erratically to denouement._

_Fitz continued to hold Olivia tightly as she kissed his ear and ran her hand up and down his back._

_"You are so sexy," she yawned before her body grew heavy with sleep. Fitz took that as his cue to roll off of her. Olivia turned onto her side whispering "I love you. Goodnight." She drew the duvet over her naked form._

_Fitz stared at the back of her head, his eyes wide with questions._

* * *

_**Wednesday night...**_

"Livvie, the magnitude of your orgasm isn't my concern. I mean, ordinarily it is... What I'm saying is, pleasing you pleases me. You know that. You have yet to ask me for something that I can't, or won't, give to you, but—"

"The answer is 'no', by the way," Olivia interrupted. "You didn't hurt me. You pleased me. So, so much."

"I know that... now."

Bemused, Olivia tilted her head. Fitz unlocked his iPad and passed it to her.

Olivia looked at the webpage. There before her was a dizzying dictionary of S&amp;M terms. "Erotic asphyxiation," she read aloud. "You were doing research?"

"I want you to imagine that you have large hands. And I want you to imagine one of those large hands around the neck of a petal of a woman. See her eyes start to get heavy and close as your giant hand is on her neck. Imagine that the woman is someone you love, someone whose life you value more than your own."

"Fitz, I—"

"You only had to feel. I had to witness this. Yes, I could have easily flung your hand off of my own. But because your hand was there, I knew that's what you wanted. _Why_ you wanted it, I still have no clue. It's the 'why' that has me bothered."

Olivia placed the iPad on the bed before palming her husband's face. "Fitz, this isn't a legal case. I don't have a brief to outline for you. I'm struggling to understand the 'why' myself. But I'd like to tell you _how_it felt." Olivia moved to run her hands over Fitz's shirt-clad chest a few times until she stopped at his monochrome amethyst tie with embossed paisley print. After loosening his tie, she started to undo the buttons on his shirt until his sculpted chest was exposed to her.

"I'm waiting." It was so hard to get Olivia to communicate her feelings to him unless she had been driven to an emotional cliff. He did not want her getting distracted with sex when they were supposed to be talking about...sex.

"Do you remember our conversation from a couple months ago, about role play?" Olivia intoned.

"How could I forget?"

Her fingers splayed, Olivia watched her manicured nails rake through the field of his chest hair. She stopped to gently circle the tips of her nails around his nipples. The skin puckered and she watched his chest begin to rise and fall noticeably.

"I love doing that to you, watching the effect that I have on your body. I don't know how to properly explain to you how intoxicating you are when you're this close to me."

"What?!"

Olivia painstakingly unbuttoned her jacket, not an easy feat considering the design was filled with tiny buttons holding the jacket closed, from her left shoulder down to her waist. She lay coquettishly on her side. Her plump lips pined for his closeness, her smile coy and cute. He moved to lay face to face with her, unable to resist her in that mode.

It had been just over three months since she told him how much she loved it when he adopted a dominant persona during their sexy-times. It made her feel free, safe, treasured. More than anything, it drove her out of her fucking mind in the most delicious way possible. Her strength, resilience and leadership were qualities to which Fitz had been attracted from the start. But with Olivia's confession, he reluctantly admitted that it made him hard when she teased him, especially when she demurred with innocence. He had worried she would think him perverse for encouraging that side of her. He was wrong.

"You see, you love it when I perform this coquettish routine for you. You get off on watching me obey your orders."

"Because now I know you like to take them."

"I do. It makes me wet for you."

"That's distracting."

"What?" She paused. "Wet?'" she teased with enunciation.

"Olivia." Fitz said firmly.

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"I mean it." He could barely keep a straight face. "Come on, we were getting somewhere."

"Ok, but it's your fault. You can't control yourself." Fitz tapped her playfully on the behind.

"Ooh, now who's starting something," she gasped. "See, Fitz, putting your hand on my throat is hardly any different than you giving me a spanking."

"Umm... I beg to differ. Besides we've talked about the spanking. I know exactly how you feel about it. It's not as if I've taken you over my knee with a paddle" Fitz looked at the curiosity in Olivia's eyes before continuing. "...Yet. We talked about me spanking you while I'm inside you."

"Well you were inside me when I put your hand on my neck." She placed her finger to Fitz's lips, hushing any rebuttal. "Let me finish. Arousal is a mysterious thing. I feel like I'm finally experiencing a sexual awakening. It's coming at the right time because you're here. I never felt this way with the men I dated before you. Not even with Edison." She slipped her leg over his. "Fitz, there are times that I want to feel like my pleasure is completely owned by you. That it belongs to you. That my every feeling is controled by a look on your face; a touch; a dirty word in my ear. You provoke me, and, sometimes, that makes me want to flirt with danger. I court it because, ultimately, I know I'm safe. You would never hurt me. And that, my love, is sexy." A memory from last night caused a shiver to run through Olivia. "Last night was...electric. It's like my body went into shock when I came. It's partly psychological, I'm sure." Fitz used his thumb to caress the tiny prickles that surfaced on her arm.

"It's not just psychological—what you felt last night. It's physiological, too. From what I've read, the depletion of oxygen helps people achieve a more intense orgasm."

"That it did."

"I felt it."

"When I held your hand over my throat, did it turn you on? Be honest with me."

"Honestly, Liv, I didn't know what was happening. I was so consumed by you. Suddenly my hand was somewhere it usually isn't. And then you were holding it there. At first I was afraid—"

"You were petrified. You kept thinking could you live without me by—"

Fitz began to tickle her rib cage and she squealed. "You will do anything to keep from being serious."

"Ok! White flag!" By that point Fitz had straddled Olivia, her arms trapped by her sides, between Fitz's legs. He discarded his opened shirt.

"The image of my hand around your neck confused and frightened me. Your eyes got really hooded. But you kept massaging your clit, and you were still breathing so I knew you couldn't have been in distress. You couldn't see this, but the look that came over your face just as your orgasm took hold of you..." The memory manifested in Fitz's face, exclaiming his point. "My God, that look and the way your pussy gripped me..." Fitz felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Olivia's eyes traveled from the growing protrusion in Fitz's pants up to his eyes. "So you didn't hate it."

"I didn't say I did. I said I was confused and frightened. You fell asleep like an old man afterward, leaving me to ponder all this. Alone."

"I didn't know what to tell you at the time. I hadn't thought about it myself. It seemed an awkward time for analysis. I pretended to be asleep for hours until my cramps came on too strong, and I had to get up and deal with that. By that point, a new worry had taken over. What happened before no longer seemed important." She beckoned him with her head to come lay beside her. She reached out to sweep her thumb over his mouth as she looked at him softly. He covered her hand with his.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I just...I followed a feeling." She paused before continuing in earnest. "Fitz, I want to try all kinds of scary things _with_ you. I trust no one above you. "

Fitz took her hand and began kissing the tips of each of her fingers before bringing her body flush with his. He rubbed his nose against hers and softly said, "Livvie, I'm here for all of it. Just... put me in the picture first."

She kissed the velvety softness of his lips while running her hand up and down his back.

"Take a bath with me. You can sit in front this time, and I'll take care of you. You can tell me what you'd like for us to try."

* * *

Olivia lay behind Fitz, one hand running a sponge over his chest as the other cradled his head against her bosom. "Thank you for the gardenias."

"I had to congratulate you on your win, which I called by the way." Olivia playfully rolled her eyes. "Besides, after your very long, very hot shower this morning, the hyacinths looked rather sad and dejected. _And_ they were purple, so they had to go."

"What is your beef with _lilac_ hyacinths?"

"They bring sorrow. Just the purple ones. Gardenias say you are lovely and amazing."

"I don't need a flower to tell me that. That's why I have you."

"You don't need me for that either."

"I don't. But you're so damn irresistible, I keep you around anyway." The room stilled until soon there was nothing but their breathing and the sound of the water dropping back into itself as Olivia navigated the sponge around Fitz's body."

"Livvie, last night—where did that idea come from?"

"Congressman Shaw's sex tape."

"The Senator from Rhode Island?"

"The _great_ state of Rhode Island. Have some respect. Yes, that guy. He and his lady friend were getting kind of kinky on that desk. Abby watched it four times, which, for her, isn't so surprising, but she was practically in rapture over it." A wry smile graced her face. "I thought it warranted an extended viewing."

Fitz began massaging the inside of Olivia's knees, which were now peeking above the water to better accommodate Fitz's body. "So you've been waiting for a long time to try that move."

"'Honey, I'd like you to choke me as I near orgasm,'" Olivia said in a mockingly chirpy voice. "How do you bring that up delicately? It just felt right to go for it last night. It felt both thrilling and safe, if that makes sense."

Fitz nodded. It all made complete sense to him now.

"You can't tell me that there aren't things you want to try, too," Olivia probed. "It's your turn, remember?" She said as she kissed the top of his right ear. Fitz waited several beats before responding.

"I would very much like to tie you to the door while I make you come over and over again."

* * *

**A/N**: It only took three months, but I'm back! I have a few more episodes I would like to write. Please don't expect this tale to be told in a linear format. We will get to know our lovely couple through flashbacks (before _'Royals'_) in addition to moving forward. We'll see where my muse takes me. Anyway, I would love to know what you think. This is a very adult chapter, but that's the story I'm writing. If you don't understand something, or take issue, I'm open. Thanks for reading, and please review :o).


	3. Episode Three: Clocks

** Clocks**

_"Fitz?"_

_"Yes..."_

_"I want your dick in my mouth."_

* * *

**September, five months after Episode 2**

_**/Washington, Thursday, 11:32 PM/**_

Olivia studied herself in the bathroom's full length mirror. Intently she gazed at her pelvis, willing herself to see the inner workings beneath the golden umber of her flesh. The pain she recognized every month—an insipid but persistent thrum on the left side of her body—was a micro obsession in this moment. She squared her shoulders and corseted her breathing, regulating it as if its sprawling threatened the delicate ballet taking place inside her. _Was it delicate? Maybe it was lumbering and jerky._ Her large chestnut eyes bore into herself until she envisaged the blood-orange, gelatin-like sphere, spat out by her ovary, maneuvering down the path of her fallopian tube, toward its inevitable demise. There would be no rendezvous. No big bang that sparks creation. Nothing that would nestle itself into the walls of her womb, clinging dependently to her. Inside her. Not this month.

It was now month 13 since they had started trying. And failing. A week since he'd been gone this time. Still eight days remained until she would smell and feel the evidence of his presence again. A few days amounted to cute tropes about the heart growing fonder and all that. Two weeks meant feeling un-moored. She had only just reached the mid-point of his trip. How pathetic. A ball of contradictions, she was completely in command of work and staff, but without him, she felt emotionally rudderless.

Sometimes, when she would need him to listen to her, he'd make her lie down on her back while he lay attentively at her side. Thinking of him, Olivia began caressing the low cut tuft decorating the triangular apex of her thighs. She was hoping her touch would have the same salutary effect his always does. The heft of his hand betrayed the gentility and warmth of his touch. Always skin on skin, clothes be damned. His bulbous pads would gently massage back and forth over the expanse of her lower abdomen, until they reached the edge of her manicured mound. Without discernible pattern, his fingers would dip past the edge, delighting in stroking the silken mane there. Touching her in this way never failed to relax her. His act of listening to her, no matter how generous or few her words were, made her feel safe and treasured.

Blocking everything else out allowed her to conjure his presence. Not that he was predictable, but his compulsion to swaddle her in safety was unfailing. Thinking of him now dampened that urge toward self-pity over another missed opportunity. She chuckled to herself imagining him naked, standing behind her. He would kiss the visible vertebrae of her neck as his arms encircled her, brush the side of her face with his night time stubble. His cornflower blue eyes would peer at her reflection, making her feel luminous. He'd whisper in her ear, "Or?" It was one of his little tricks to compel her toward a more optimistic train of thought. If it's one thing that man thrives on, it's hope.

She let his spirit fully inhabit the lacuna of his absence. Instead of the crimson tide of failure soon to be flushed out from inside her, she began to imagine the glow and swell of success on her body. Entwining her hands, she placed them beneath her imaginary fecundity. Tentatively she turned toward a more hopeful view of the future.

* * *

**_/Osaka, Friday, 1:43 PM/_**

A potent vibration against Fitz's chest startled him. The unexpected jolt from his phone-in 'Do Not Disturb' mode—meant it could be only one person. After eight days, converting the 13 hour time difference between Washington and Japan had become second nature. It was 12:43 AM there. He momentarily considered her safety: _Is she OK? Does she need me?_ The clearing of a throat—John's, his Chief of Staff—brought his attention back to his presentation.

"Gentlemen, as I was saying..."

* * *

Fitz exited the meeting, held at Osaka's Museum of History, feeling cautiously optimistic. Securing financial and intellectual commitment to housing the Kaifu Cultural Institute of Japan at Georgetown was crucial to the goals he set as president. Having the Institute at the University, instead of a generic location in Washington, meant attracting world renowned scholars, offering new courses, internship opportunities, attracting a more diverse cohort of students, and, of course, a steady stream of research funds. But majority control would be in the hands of the Japanese government, with the potential for ideological gridlock. Adamant that the Institute should not serve as a propaganda machine for revisionist history—by the US or Japan, Fitz negotiated with the delicate balance required to cross a tightrope. His charm and intelligence, his ability to listen to multiple angles and deduce the right course to plot always stood him in good stead. It was Olivia's advice on cultural observations that proved the boost to his confidence. Be firm, but not pushy; observe Japanese cultural business traditions of small talk before expertly pivoting to your business agenda, were just a few of her recommendations.

Fitz was almost hyper-focused on his goals for this trip: close the deal on the Institute and secure the $10 million dollar endowment gift. Each day in Japan was different. Missing Olivia was his constant. The thirteen hour time difference meant they played phone tag with voicemails, and swapped texts and emails more than they got to actually connect. With Congress back in session and Washington in full swing, he knew Olivia wasn't exactly twiddling her thumbs waiting for his calls. His schedule was unrelenting. To her credit, Lauren had arranged meetings and tours with great efficiency and use of time during this two week trip. It left him little time for anything other than sleeping and tending to business back home. Though he had delegated authority in his absence, it did not stop the emails; the minor emergencies that would not abide his absence; and the approval process for the unexpected hiring of a new dean for their top-ranking law school. On the bright side, replacing the now scandalized Dean Astley presented Fitz with an opportunity to address his equality agenda.

Fitz took a deep breath. His firm pectoral muscles swelled against the breast pocket housing his phone. He reached inside hoping to discover a message from Olivia. She and her team were working 'round the clock in the last week or so. She was probably just saying a quick hello. He listened to her voice, notably sweet and fatigued:

_"Hi...if you see this in the next 30 minutes, call me._

_I'm worn out from the longest day ever, but I just can't_

_fall over the edge. I just... I need to hear your voice."_

_Need_. He loved that word when it came out of Olivia's mouth. The way she would plead it with her eyes and knitted brow, arresting. He needed her in all ways. Acknowledging this fact did not make him feel weak. It made him feel strong, like reinforced steel. Their marriage was a mathematical equation. Without her, he felt as if he'd been subtracted from; disemboweled of something vital, without which things just didn't add up.

Fitz checked the time. He cursed himself for missing his window by more than an hour. The Q&amp;A session following his presentation had gone on entirely too long, a consequence, in part, of needing translators. He dared not call the house phone and risk waking her, if she did manage to fall asleep. She had sounded so tired. In the last four years, neither of them had slept alone for more than three nights in a row. No matter the season, Olivia would complain of feeling cold without him next to her. He knew exactly how she felt.

It was nearly 4:30 AM in Washington. In the next three hours, she would be up. His last appointment should be over in time for a brief chat before she'd arrive at OPA. Fitz fired off an email to Lauren as he listened to John's diatribe about the inferiority of Japanese desserts. Fitz flashed him a few glib eyebrow raises to acknowledge his chatter, promising himself to correct John's ethno-centrism tonight at dinner.

* * *

_**/Washington, Friday, 7:52 AM/**_

"Quinn, I'll be right there! I know Schumann. Listen... I will be there before he shows up. Trust me. You make sure you're ready."

"But, Liv, he—"

"Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Goodbye."

Olivia tossed the phone onto the bed. She stared at her mismatched feet in the mirror, deciding on the suede taupe stilettos over the smoke grey platforms. They looked better with the black ankle length, slim cut trousers she was sporting. She was a tad grumpy from lack of sleep and, truth be told, lack of Fitz. When he hadn't called late last night, she'd done the only thing she could to fall asleep.

Olivia grabbed her taupe Prada bag and headed swiftly down the stairs. As she reached for the door, the phone sounded again. Without looking at the caller, she answered.

"What?!"

"Livvie?" Fitz said breathlessly. He'd barely registered her impatient business greeting, so eager was he to finally connect with her.

She softened. "I'm here. I can't believe it's you. It's been days now since I've actually spoken to you and not your voicemail. I..." She paused her movements briefly. "I miss you, Fitz."

"Liv, it would be an understatement to say I miss you. But I do. I can't sleep without you." He paused to avoid competing with the hive of activity on Olivia's end. The click clack of her heels echoed on the driveway, followed by rustling and then the slam of her car's door. "I thought I would have caught you slightly sooner. How are you?" he said, the epitome of earnestness.

"You've been busy, I've been busy. But none of that has made being apart any easier. Since you've been gone, it feels like we're constantly dancing around each other. I thought we'd be better at this." Recognizing her error, she revised. "Bad analogy. Our actual dancing is perfectly in sync."

"Except for salsa." He cleared his throat. " I don't wanna brag, but I'm hard to keep up with."

She rolled her eyes in jest, before pulling out her garage key pass. "I may not be there, but I'm 100% certain you are wearing that smug little smirk of yours."

"If that's how you'd like to imagine me, Ms. Pope..."

"Well, Doctor, the smirk did make an appearance in my...imaginings...of you last night."

"About that, Liv, I'm so sorry I didn't call. The translators..."

He didn't need to make excuses. She understood. "I don't need you, mister. I have a very exciting life." She impishly insisted while flipping her hair as if he could see her.

"Olivia Pope, I love you."

"I love you, too, Fitzgerald Grant the third." Wanting to prolong this sense of levity before the start of her hectic day, she decided to tease him further. "When I didn't hear from you, I tried to be Zen about relaxing—Yogic breathing, sheep, blah, blah. Until I just couldn't ignore the obvious solution anymore—taking matters into my own hands."

"I'm definitely kicking myself for missing that. Tell me what you were thinking about."

"No recaps, mister. You should have tuned in live" she mocked. Realizing the hour, she sighed. "I just pulled into my parking spot. I have to go."

"At least tell me what you're wearing right now," Fitz pleaded playfully.

"You are shameless! Goodbye." she beamed.

"Wait... Liv?" The air shifted between them as he paused. His voice dropped to its most mellifluous octave. "Tonight I'll tuck you in. That's a promise."

Rarely making a promise he couldn't keep, Olivia knew Fitz to be a man of his word. "That came out dirty." She replied, pursing her lips.

"Good. That's how I meant it."

Her nipples sharpened into tiny daggers, pushing against the soft padding of her bra. She groaned in frustration before disconnecting the call. _Could it be next weekend already?_, she wondered.

* * *

"Huck, you're sure these instructions are clear, and fool-proof?" Olivia interrogated.

"I could explain the technical details—"

"That would ruin it for the both of us" Olivia interjected. "I just need to ensure complete confidentiality." Olivia could hardly reconcile with herself what she was set on attempting.

"You know what I say: if you want safe, keep it analog."

Olivia stared at him blankly.

Huck took the hint. "If you're going digital and want to keep it simple, this is the way to go. Your video is less likely to be intercepted and end up in the wrong hands. Also, if the receiver takes a screen grab, you get a notification. The downside: the video has to be less than 10 seconds, and the viewer can only watch it two times—max—before it disappears forever."

"10 seconds, got it. And I can send multiple videos to the same recipient?" she said with her arms crossed, affecting an air of professionalism.

Huck looked away from his computer screen and regarded Olivia curiously before the horror of realization washed over him. His eyes sought shelter for his embarrassment. He typed a post-it note on his desktop, a reminder to install a monitoring system on his son's phone. _Kids these days_...

"Huck?"

"Uhh, yeah, you can send as many 10-second clips as you'd like. The same rule applies."

As if right on cue, Harrison swept Olivia away from Huck's office.

"Liv, are we still on for tonight? My treat."

"You'd better. Komi's at 7, right?"

"About that, I had it changed to 8:30. I hope that still works. Fitz isn't home, so I thought..."

Conferring her objection, Olivia's eyes slowly swept up and down Harrison's well-tailored frame before glaring at him once more. "On this occasion it works, but don't ever presume my time and attention are more available because my husband isn't home. My whole life is not about him." She noted the time on the clock behind Harrison's head. "Make sure you have Senator Shumann's statement ready for my revision by 4 PM. We're live at 6 from the Capitol." She pivoted on her heels leaving Harrison to stand there slack-jawed, twirling his phone.

* * *

It was early afternoon and Olivia sat at her desk looking through SEC filings.

"Eat." Abby placed a plastic container filled with verdant leaves in front of Olivia.

"Abby..."Olivia whined. "I don't have time. I'm doing a favor for Hollis Doyle. Seems he's in trouble with the SEC and shares of Doyle Energy are plummeting from the public perception of his company."

"Which is exactly why you need to eat" Abby insisted. "Hollis Doyle requires a lot of energy."

_Note to self_, Olivia thought, _don't hire sassy litigators, even if they are your best friend._

"It has bacon on it." Abby sang.

Olivia looked curiously at the container, pouting in defeat. She picked up the fork, skewering a piece of apple wood smoked English bacon resting on a hill of fibre. Abby sauntered out, pleased with herself.

Olivia sat and ate while making her way through the assortment of notifications crowding her phone. She noticed a missed iMessage from Fitz that was a few days old:

_"I'd like to take you here one day.—Cape Maeda, Okinawa"_

Beneath the text was a photo of a lush and beautiful seascape, taken from the vantage point of what looked to be a cliff. Olivia began tapping out a cheeky one-handed reply:

_"Breath-taking. But kind of a public place to *take* me, no?"_

_"For swimming and snorkeling, dirty girl. But I'll *take* you anywhere you want."_ His reply, swift and sparkling, brightened the 15 minutes she allotted herself for lunch.

_"This is why I leave you notes and keep the texting to a minimum when we're not travelling."_

_"Because I'm so irresistible?"_

_"More like distractingly flirtatious"_

_"Ok, I'll try serious and sincere. Let's see how you like that. Tell me about your day"_

She knew this man. He'd end up at square one soon enough. But for now, she'd abide Mr. 'serious and sincere'.

_"Busy. I'm juggling a few clients, and Harrison and I are having dinner later. More business, I suspect. Fitz, it's almost 3AM where you are. Is everything OK?"_

_Why was this salad so big,_ Olivia wondered. Her jaw was getting a workout.

_"John's proven to be a much bigger asshole than I previously thought. But other than that? Things are just swell."_

_"Ok, Andy Griffith"_

_"What would you do if you didn't have me to tease?"_

_"The nerve. You are the biggest tease alive. Speaking of, what time did you imagine I'd need to be *tucked in*?"_

_"Other than my flight to Tokyo, Lauren left my Saturday wide open. So, your wish is my command"_

_"Stop being so cute. I still have to deal with Schumann's resignation. Can you believe he slept with the 21 year old daughter of his wife's best friend?! Also, your Dean Astley was practically begging me to take on his underage-student sex scandal. Involving waterworks, no less! I told him it was a conflict of interest. Why would he even think he could come to me?"_

_"You can't blame him for trying. You're brilliant. The best, in fact."_

_"What did I say about being so darn cute?"_

_"I'm not apologizing"_

_"I don't want you to"_

_"...is something you don't say very often"_

_"So much for 'serious and sincere'"_

_"You love it, come on"_

_"At this time I have no comment."_

Olivia thought of Abby, who frequently complained about couples on social media fawning all over each other with sickening sweetness. She said she wanted to punch them in the face. Olivia briefly considered if these quips with her husband would rouse Abby's fist.

_"Livvie...I do have something serious that we need to talk about. I received the list of short-listed candidates for Dean Astley's position. There are five of them. You'll never guess who's on it."_

_"I'm sure I can. I'd rather not discuss this over iMessage. The committee has to wait for your return to do the interviews, right?"_

_"I insisted. The interviews are on the Wednesday after I get back. The new Dean has to be hired, on-board and fully up-to-speed by the end of October. Our ranking is on the line."_

_"I know. And I understand, but I want you in front of me when we discuss this. K?"_

_"Sure."_

Olivia's 15 minutes were almost up. Not wanting their chat to close on that note, she turned to her plans with him later that night.

_"Now, about tonight... Will you install Snapchat on your phone for me? My username is 'Dr's_orders'"_

_"Love the name, but are we 12 suddenly?"_

_"This is for adult eyes only"_

A mere two minutes passed before Fitz returned a reply. "My username's III_SUPERPOWERS_III"

_"All caps, really? I hate you"_

_"But you love my superpowers ;) "_

_" -_- Bye!"_

* * *

_**/Osaka, Saturday, 7:02 AM/**_

Fitz had been up for nearly an hour. Osaka's bright September light had poured into every crevice of his hotel room. In the time that he'd been here, the sky had been composed of little more than endless poufs of silver cotton. Because of this he hadn't bothered to use the blackout curtains of his high rise hotel. CNN, the only English channel available on his TV played softly in the background as Fitz, clad in his reading glasses, t-shirt and boxers, sat up against the headboard reading up on local Tokyo culture and its quirks. Especially the quirks. Tokyo has an inordinate number and variety of sex shops, clubs and bars.

Burst of light flashing across the TV's screen caught his attention. Looking up, he saw Senator Schumann, contrite as a dozen microphones ate up his every word. He would be resigning as head of the Senate, but not as Senator. Fitz was sure he was undeserving of keeping that title. He should be grateful that Olivia's resolute belief in second chances extended to the likes of him. There she was with half of her face on Fitz's TV. _They tell you never to look directly at the sun. The sun is nothing more than a giant star, and star-gazing is OK. Isn't it?_ Fitz allowed himself the indulgence of beholding half her face, the unexpected view of which pushed the ache of missing her to the foreground. As if sensing his feeling, Olivia receded from the camera's view. The ache remained. Grabbing his workout clothes and key card, he headed for the hotel's rooftop gym. The views of Osaka Castle would be better today.

* * *

**_/Washington, Friday, 9:01 PM/_**

Olivia Pope and Associates was thriving. Olivia was now discerningly turning away business with regularity. She had goals. She had dreams. These included cultivating Olivia Pope and Associate satellite offices in every major region of the United States. North America. And every continent thereafter. With her current personal goal eluding her for the last 13 months, it left a fair amount of uncertainty about expanding her business. For right now she would cultivate the flagship office. They needed another Gladiator. She knew Harrison had invited her to dinner for just this purpose. Well, that and to try out Komi's before putting it on his list of 'date' restaurants.

Olivia was a million miles away from the food in front of her and from Harrison, sat across from her making an earnest pitch. She gave few audible responses, relying instead on meaningful eye contact, head nods, eyebrow calisthenics. The drink in her hand diverted her attention. Waves of Gamay pirouetted, Misty Copeland-like, across Olivia's tongue. A smooth and delicate lightness cultivated in few reds, she savored this first taste with closed lids as the ribbons of velvet warmed her from inside. This tiny little moment of pleasure felt like a brief oasis in what otherwise was a long, eventful-but uncharacteristically lonely-week for her. Now more aware of her mouth—to the point of distraction-Olivia's mind soon drifted to something that had been ensconced in her brain for the last hour.

Before dinner Olivia had nipped into the Secret Pleasures Boutique. It was small, discreet, but not exclusively upmarket. She was there to pick up a few delights and sundries for the adult playroom she and Fitz were using to expand the boundaries of their sexual fantasies. Amazing feats in silicone were being reached these days. They came in such an array of colors, lengths, textures, girth—some cartoonishly monstrous, others freakishly life like. Having wandered into this den of dildos, Olivia came across an uncanny sight. Arrested in place, head cocked, eyebrows knitted, her extended pause in front of one dildo in particular was enough for the shop assistant to ask if she was OK. There in front of her was a perfect silicone replica of Fitz's cock, suctioned to a wall. She felt silly and hallucinatory._ He's been gone too long. That's all. Get a hold of yourself_, she tried to reason. With curiosity and apprehension she reached to touch it, recoiling almost immediately in self-consciousness. Yet she could not tear her eyes away from it. It stirred something deliciously familiar inside her. A furtive smile spread across her lips as she wondered what Fitz would think of his doppelganger. Olivia had no problem putting her hands and mouth all over her husband's body. She felt a possessiveness over him that did not infringe upon his own agency. She had seen her fair share throughout most of her twenties, but Fitz: that man has a beautiful cock. The kind of perfection reminiscent of a Maplethorpe photograph. A perfection worthy of show-and-tell, were she not the jealous type. She was not shy of extolling his prowess each time he pleased her, and never let him forget how sexy he is. Showering him with indulgent paeans about his penis, that she had not done. Yet. She mused on whether it would be virtuous, or silly, to try.

A wave of Harrison's hand brought her back to the present. "Liv, are you ready for another glass already? You're looking kind of flushed. I can drive you home later, if you'd like" he offered.

"I'm fine. Really. About Mark, you were saying?" Olivia recovered.

"Marcus. Marcus Walker. He's a good kid, Liv: talented, sharp, principled and energetic. Boot-strapper who's still focused on effecting change using grassroots tactics."

"Grassroots—exactly what OPA is about," Olivia deadpanned. "Harrison, I'm not looking to train interns. You know that, right? I need warriors."

"Liv..." Harrison flashed his trademarked disarming smile. Purposely or unconsciously deployed at this moment, he frequently used it to beguile even the most accomplished women, and some men, into granting him favors. Having known this man for half her life, she was now impervious to its effects. Nevertheless, she championed it as an expert business tool. Each of her Gladiators had their own set.

"He's a strategist and amazing organizer. GW law degree. He...umm" Harrison hesitated briefly before continuing. "His approach is different from mine, or anyone else on the team, for that matter. But, trust me, you want this cat on our team. Just say you'll at least meet with him. Please."'

"I trust you Harrison. I do. My gut, however, is not convinced enough to arrange a meeting." Wanting to table the matter until she had more information, Olivia declared, "Tell you what, put together a file on Marcus Walker and his work so far. I'll review it and we'll talk again."

Knowing the formula of cunning and intuition Olivia employed to great success, Harrison reluctantly complied. "You're the boss."

Harrison, over the last few years, had ascended to sit at the right hand of Olivia's OPA throne. His loyalty was unquestioning, their friendship unfettered by lopsided coddling of unrequited love. Stephen had coiled himself so tightly around a fantasy Olivia never shared, that he was irreparably undone by Olivia's unexpected engagement to Fitzgerald Grant, III. Stephen's illusions were as delicate as glass, so easily spliced by the lasered edges of the Asscher diamond perched on Olivia's ring finger. The awkwardness grew between them. Stephen called it betrayal. He cultivated that feeling and clutched it like a cudgel. Eventually even Olivia's professional relationship with him was bludgeoned by it. _Men and their egos_, she thought. Still, it was a wound she partly regarded as self-inflicted. By her.

"Dessert, Liv?" Harrison intoned as he perused the menu in front of him. His question brought her back to that unwavering feeling of her weariness. She couldn't be fully present with Harrison, and she knew exactly why. She needed something only her husband's attention could assuage. She glanced at her rose gold Movado.

Olivia grabbed her purse and motioned to leave. "I'm going to pass. But do have that Marcus Walker file on my desk Monday morning. We'll talk then." She rested her hand on Harrison's charcoal-suited shoulder. "Thank you for dinner, but do yourself a favor: don't bring a date here. Their selection of red wines is extensive, I'll give them that. Otherwise, this place is very overrated." Harrison gave her a squeeze of the hand. With that, Olivia was out the door.

* * *

**_/Osaka, Saturday 1:17 PM/_**

The screen of Fitz's phone lit up with two new notifications from 'Dr's_Orders'. Peering closely, he realized they were from Snapchat. His eyebrows quirked in surprise seeing two new videos, 10 seconds each. He clicked on the first, and could hardly believe his eyes. There she was, a luminous amaretto vision in a sea of white linen, underneath which she writhed and stiffened and sighed. She made 'O's with her mouth and sometimes snarled as she gave generously to herself. She was on his side of the bed, her hair fanned out on his pillow. One hand was occupied beneath the covers. He wondered if her drive towards orgasm was manual or automatic. Her other hand busied itself inside her black negligee, alternately grabbing her left breast or pinching her stiffened nipple. _She likes that when she's ready to come, he thought_. He hadn't closed his mouth since the video began. Just as his own arousal began to stir, the video ended.

Fitz hurriedly clicked the next episode. Olivia had timed this one to begin with the onset of her orgasm. _How are women able to look so beautiful when they come?_ He wondered in fascination. Olivia was not typically a picture of serenity when she came, not if Fitz was doing his job properly. _Is this what I miss when my face is saturated and buried between her legs, soaking up the power of her orgasm? Or when my eyes are closed, as she's still pulsating around me?_ Watching Olivia make herself come this way was different. Immersive. Theatrical. His own personal Livvie porn. He felt crazed with need for her, the evidence pushing against his boxer-briefs.

She caught her breath and brought her hand up to wipe the sheen from her forehead before turning to the camera—on his bedside table, he guessed. With blush pink, bee-stung lips and deep amber eyes half shuttered in sated satisfaction, she beckoned him shyly, "I'm ready, doctor."

* * *

**_/Washington, Saturday, 12:20 AM/_**

Olivia slipped out of bed to discard the wet wipe she had used minutes earlier. The wipes were convenient, smelled fruity, and were made especially for cleaning silicone—her favorite material for toys. Tonight she relied on her trusted little pronged-eared friend to get her off.

Olivia stood still for a moment, thinking that she heard a noise. She did. Her iPad mini. She quickened her steps to pick up Dr. Grant's FaceTime.

"Wow."

She chuckled. "Hello to you, too."

He was all gleaming teeth and reverence looking at her glowing face—free of makeup. Like the day he first laid eyes on her. "You are such a gift."

"My pleasure," she purred.

"It sure looked like it."

"Have you met a double entendre you could resist?"

"I'm confused. I thought that's why you married me."

"No, it's because you're pretty. And smart." She regarded his face and his perfect smile then. "So pretty. So smart. That's how I like 'em." She was now laying sideways, back on her side of the bed now. Her iPad mini—in its case—was propped up on Fitz's pillow, the closest she could get to him being there with her. Reaching her finger out, she caressed the side of his slightly flushed face through the screen. "You look smooth. Did you just shave?"

"I'm not long out of the shower. I went to the gym earlier to clear my head."

"I thought things were going well there? I'm so proud of you, Fitz. The endowment, the Institute. I know you'll succeed, and get full marks for doing so."

"If it wasn't for your advice on avoiding cultural faux pas, I might have innocently ruined my chances. Liv, thank you."

"Team, right?"

"Right."

A beat passed between them.

"So, what has you stressed?"

"Not stressed. I was tense. I saw you this morning. The press conference for Schumann-I could see you in the background. Well, half of your face. And then you were all I could think about. Missing you. Being with you. Wanting to touch you. I knew you were working and had plans with Harrison. I didn't want to be needy."

She mooned over him. They both regularly worked 10-12 hour days, but were secure in the fact that they would come home to each another. With that security blanket robbed for two weeks, Olivia's nights at home seemed so long. She never thought of herself as one of these silly girls pining away for her man. When she had to travel for clients, or even when he occasionally left for a few days, it did not affect her concentration, knock her off balance. The emptiness of his extended absence, however, left her bereft, compelling her to ponder an existence without him. She wasn't afraid of being single. Olivia had lived beyond the boundaries of parental protection for so long, she had practically raised herself. Her life was filled with warm and wonderful people, but not until she met Fitzgerald Grant did she understand what it meant to need someone. And what it meant to feel secure in that realization.

"You have a right to be needy in this instance. It's what I felt the other night. And now. Did it help, your trip to the gym?"

Fitz removed his t-shirt and sat up with his back against the headboard. He held his phone in front of him so Olivia could see his sculpted chest. Dropping to his Barry White register, he said, "You tell me."

She blushed and briefly covered her eyes. "That's not what I meant! Cover your nipples, mister. I find them highly sexual. And don't speak to me with that voice. I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"You're one to talk after that...performance you sent me."

"You found that entertaining, did you?" She was baiting him now.

Fitz nodded his head on a continuous loop, his eyes slightly glazed as he thought about Olivia's one-woman play. It had been nearly four years since they were married. The little jolts of affection that stirred in his body when he thought of her; the way his cock twitched when she stared longingly at him—these feelings, he hoped, would last well into years 10, 20...50.

"I perform live, on request you know. But only for a very exclusive audience." Olivia teased.

"How about an encore?"

Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "I... have something else in mind for right now." Her innocence was a veil, sheer and barely shrouding the electricity of mischief that lay beneath.

"Fitz, I miss being next to you, curling into your body in bed. I miss your kisses. Your hands. Your smell... every bit of you, in fact. I need to feel close to you. Will you do something for me?"

"You know I will," he responded warmly.

"Plug your earphones in and get naked."

She watched him remove his pants, tout suite. Sat there, as she had instructed, naked, thighs ajar, his massive hand barely concealing the abundance of his lap. She was eager to exercise some control over missing him so completely. "Put the phone down and sit up. I want you to close your eyes, listen to me, and just focus on feeling me. There. With you," she said.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Fitz?" Olivia interjected all sugary sweet and smooth as velvet.

"Yes..."

"I want your dick in my mouth."

"Jesus, Livvie...yes." Slumbering no more, his dick began its ascent, as if trying to reach the woman who elicited those words.

"I'm gonna crawl on your bed, right up to the side of you. I'm on my knees and my ass is in the air. I hope you take advantage of the view." Olivia allowed Fitz to imagine her body perpendicular to his. That way she would get to taste him while he gropes, pinches, or slaps her bottom; fondles her folds, or reaches under to massage her clit. She wanted to imagine him touching her in all those ways.

"Now I'm brushing the ends of my hair down your chest, all the way until I get to your thighs."

"Liv..." he breathed as he started to softly tug on himself, needing to relieve the pressure being built by her words.

"Would you move my hair to the side for me, out of my face ? . I can't wait to feel you throbbing against my hand as my lips wrap around you."

The earphone's speakers picked up everything. She could hear how forceful and shallow his breathing had become. Raspy. She heard, too, when he spat into his palm to ease the friction of his grip. Picturing the swell of his cock, turgid from her words, Olivia reached for her own folds, slick once again.

"I'm reaching between your thighs to kiss and massage those presidential balls of yours. Then? I'll flatten my tongue and give you an excruciatingly slow lick from the base to the tip. Fitz..." she moaned. "You are an ice cream sundae of a man, and I'm gonna enjoy you slowly."

In a gravely voice, he said, "I don't know if I can last with you talking like this."

"You'll do what I tell you. Now where was I with this big dick of yours-"

"Oh, fuck."

She smirked, feeling heady and powerful. Even when she was on her literal knees in front of, or beside, him she was keenly aware that it was she who could catapult him into cataclysms of ecstasy.

"Let me see how much of you I can fit inside my mouth." It was then that Olivia could hear the speed of his palm vigorously buffing his length. His lips were probably curled tightly, his jaw clenched in concentration. He'd be getting sweaty, and she could almost smell him there with her.

"Fitz, I'm so wet for you right now. Touch me. Please." Fitz moaned in pleasure, and for a moment she felt like it was him who was massaging her clit with three fingers.

"Can you feel my nipples bouncing against your thigh as I rock back and forth with you in my mouth?"

A ragged release of air. Fitz was beyond words at this point, and she could tell he would not be far from the finish line.

"Ooops, my mouth has made a mess on you, hasn't it. Going up and down, and up and down." She kicked it up a notch by sticking her thumb in her mouth to imitate the suction sound. "It's just...you taste so good." Fresh from the shower as he was, she knew exactly what he would taste like. "Let me use my hand to twist up and down your shaft while I suck you from the top."

"Just wait until I get home. Start praying."

He surprised her with his words. Not the content, but the fact that he was capable of speech. She had him right where she wanted him—drunk with lust and making threats he had better keep.

"You wanna come, don't you, baby? I do, too. You first."

He was a high speed train hurtling toward the finish line. "Almost...there... tell me more."

"When I made that video, I was thinking about you. Those little rabbit ears were buzzing against my clit, and all I could think about was your tongue—how talented it is. I was thinking about how wet you make me. How when you're fucking me, you love it when I clench down on you and pull you deeper into me..."

"Oh, fuck... Liv, I'm gonna-"

"Good boy" she whispered. "Now come in my mouth."

Olivia heard a yelp that got stuck in his throat. She imagined his abs constricting as his back and head bowed over in front of him from the effort of coming. Mouth agape, his panting filled her ears causing the tiny hairs on her arms to rise. She'd bet his forehead was sweaty. _Did he run a hand through his lush curls as he tried to recover?_ she considered.

As her Adonis revived, she pictured his mouth attached to her pert nipples as his fingers strummed her to chorus. The thought of him slowly biting down on her sensitive nipple caused her to release a keening wail as her orgasm began coursing through her.

He heard her. And then she heard him. "Let me lap that up for you."

"Fiiiiitz..."

"I could die happily in your lap."

Soon her head was filled with visions of the back of his curly head, buried in the valley between her thighs, his tongue hungrily licking at the deluge of her denouement. These images fueled the wave of aftershocks radiating through her lithe body.

* * *

The aftermath of her orgasm gave way to a familiar chill. Olivia buried herself deeper under the duvet until only her face was visible. They were face to face again, digitally connected.

Sleepily Olivia said, "Will you stay?"

Fitz glanced up at the clock in his room. His flight for Tokyo would be leaving in three hours. "Let's see..." He looked up at the ceiling for effect. "Two orgasms in short succession, of course I can stay. You'll be out for the count in no time." He smiled in that endearingly lop-sided way she loved.

She laughed knowing how true it was.

"Besides, you've had a long day."

"Did you have a good time?"

"Do you have to ask? You're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"

"Ask that tongue of yours," Olivia slurred as she began to drift out to sea.

* * *

_**/Osaka, Saturday, 2:13 PM/**_

Geometric bursts of yellow dotted the perimeter of the sheet covering Fitz from the waist down. Wishing to prolong the feel of being close to her, Fitz left his boxer-briefs languishing on bamboo wood floor. He lay on his side again, propped up on his elbow, watching Olivia lose the battle with sleep. Her eyelids fluttered closed one last time. Her pouty lips parted ever so slightly, releasing a single puff of air. He kissed the part of the screen where they appeared.

"Good night, little darling."

Fitz stayed there for as long as he could, content in watching the rise and fall of her chest and listening to the rhythm of her breathing. _Home. Home is where I want to go_, he lamented. Cognizant of the hour, he reluctantly reached to disconnect the call with Olivia. Almost immediately, his hotel room phone rang.

"Hello?"

"We need to talk."

Fitz's eyebrows narrowed in disbelief at the voice on the other end. His mouth set in a thin line. "Not until you tell me how you got this number, Mellie."

* * *

**A/N:** I'm sorry it's been so long. I wanted our faves to deal with being apart in a way that made sense for their lives. Not to worry, in episode 4 Fitz will be home. I hope Olivia is prayed up because he doesn't make empty threats. Anyway, I promise an August delivery on that one.** I would very much appreciate your feedback**, and you can pitch me like Harrison, if you have ideas :o). If you have questions, I'm on Tumblr: (anincorrectpetunia). I will use my blog to respond to any concerns/questions left in reviews on this site. Thanks again for your support and patience.


	4. Episode Four A: Salted Wound

**Salted Wound**

"_Did you miss me?"_

"_I did miss you."_

"_Like this?"_

"_Just like that."_

* * *

**Nine days after Episode 3**

_**/Sunday/**_

"Damn it!" Fitz hastily put his hand over his mouth, dropping his briefcase in the process. He winced at all the clatter and mess he had caused. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Olivia at this hour.

He had tiptoed gingerly toward the kitchen when he got in, eager for a glass of water. His black, slim- fit trench was draped over the same arm carrying his Bordeaux-colored, buckskin briefcase. His four-wheeled suitcase was being tugged by the other. Before his departure to Japan, Washington had been suffering through an unusually hot September. Two weeks later, nothing had changed.

It was nearly pitch black down stairs, save for the blue backlight on the control wall for the electrics. It was his house and he knew it well, but he hadn't expected Olivia to leave an empty wine glass so close to the edge of the kitchen's island. His arm had brushed too close to it, knocking it off its marble perch. He'd clean it up in the morning. Now all he could think about was their bed and her in it.

His connecting flight in Toronto had been delayed by nearly five hours. Deliriously fatigued at this point, he set his things down and began to discard his clothes, resting them on the erect handle bar of his suitcase. He tiptoed upstairs, wearing only his boxers.

When he entered their bedroom, he found Olivia sound asleep, despite her insistence on waiting up for him. She was wearing one of his pyjama tops: the monogram Egyptian cotton one in navy blue, with the lavender pinstripes. "They bring out your eyes," she had said, after handing him an elegant black box on their cotton wedding anniversary. Next March would make four years of marriage. He had hoped that they would meet that anniversary with their first child—present, or on the way. After 13 months, the quiet confidence within him had not waned. He would carry that faith for them both, if necessary.

Neatly folded on his pillow were the bottoms to the pyjamas. One of her trademark notes lay on top. Fitz pressed the home button on his iPhone, illuminating her words:

_It's hot outside, but you know how I feel when you're not next to me._

While abroad, the iPhone was a lifeline for both of them. But he had missed these tiny missives of hers. They were nothing and everything all at once. As a grown man, he shouldn't feel delighted to see them, but he always did.

Fitz gingerly removed his boxer briefs, and pulled on the bottoms Liv left for him. He slipped into bed next to her, bringing her back to his chest. She stirred.

"You're home. Safe." she sighed in relief, still mostly unconscious.

"I'm home." Fitz kissed the nape of her neck, exposed because Olivia's hair was piled loose atop her head. "Safe."

He placed his arm around her, thinking _aren't we a pair_. Instinctively, she placed her hand on top of his, entwining their fingers before drifting off once more.

* * *

It was Sunday, and neither of them needed to get up. The daggers of the sun's rays accosted his face, insisting he obey their call to rise. Accustomed to moving around in the night, Fitz's defense was to turn away from the window and toward Olivia. He reached to bring her body to his.

Olivia felt a familiar pressure at her lower back. Sometimes it annoyed her and she'd roll to the edge of her side of the bed. Deprived of his touch for two weeks, her husband's morning erection felt new again. She felt owed. Wanting what was hers, Olivia edged herself up in the bed so that her bottom was more strategically placed. She began gently rocking against him, testing to see just how tired he was. If he didn't respond, she would leave him alone and go downstairs to make herself some green tea.

A fragrant lock of Olivia's hair tumbled from atop its messy tower. It tickled the edge of Fitz's nostrils, causing him to bristle. He became cognizant then of Olivia's movements. He brought his hand from around her waist to her thigh, confirming what he had been almost certain of. Sliding over her bare hipbone, he splayed his huge hand against her abdomen. With her body melded into his, Fitz grazed his teeth along the shell of her ear. The soft air from his nose swished into her ear, making Olivia shudder and gasp. She turned her head toward his face, which hovered slightly above hers.

"Hi."He kissed her softly on the lips. Their doll-like poutiness was even more pronounced in the mornings. A fact he loved.

"Hi." She reached her hand to twine in his messy curls.

Still in a spooning position, Fitz looked down into her eyes as he pressed his hardness into her. "Is this what you want?"

"Please."

Fitz undid his pajama pants and started gliding the swollen head of his cock against Olivia's wetness. He did it slowly, making whisper soft contact with her folds. So soft, he was practically tickling her. "Tell me again."

"Fiiiiitz," she whined. "Don't make me beg. It's been too long."

He licked at her neck before sliding home inside of her.

"Oh, God" Olivia moaned at the feel of him filling her to the brim, as she clutched tightly to tufts of his hair.

Fitz chuckled darkly in her ear. "Don't say I'm not generous."

She smiled briefly before her lips connected urgently with his. They set a steady rhythm against each other from behind. He rested Olivia's thigh atop his, opening her up to him. With his other hand he reached to undo the buttons on her pajama top. His pajama top.

"Did you miss me?" he said earnestly, wresting his tongue from her mouth.

"I did miss you...yessssss."

"Like this" he questioned and exclaimed with an unyielding thrust.

"Oh, God. Just like that" She didn't know if it was possible, but the potency of his voice resonated through her like an organ in an empty church. She wasn't empty. She felt deliciously full of him. As his persuasive strokes turned insistent, Olivia moved her hand to feel the muscles of his ass flex as he delivered her to Zion on this Sunday morning.

Fitz grabbed the fullness of Olivia's breast. He flicked his thumb back and forth over her distended nipple.

"Fitz, I need..."

He reached over her thigh to massage her to completion.

Olivia came in a breathy song, trapping his hand between her thighs. Fitz stilled himself in reverence as that beautiful tension gripped her entire body. The spasms within her walls against his cock brought Fitz closer to the edge. He needed more. He rolled Olivia over onto her stomach to get the leverage he desired.

"Keep your legs together," he instructed. She angled her hips to receive him.

Pushing her pajama top up as far as it would go, he ran his tongue up the center of her back before plunging into her with gusto. Olivia bit down on her pillow. She clenched repeatedly, cocooning Fitz in her slick portal. She wanted him to feel every ridge, every plane inside her. She wanted to give as good as she got.

Soon, she felt him stiffen and explode inside her before aimlessly pumping his hips to satisfaction.

* * *

Back from the bathroom, Olivia pounced onto the bed with a burst of energy. She straddled her husband's nude hips, her still pantiless bottom teasingly close to ground zero.

"Good morning. Welcome home," she beamed before kissing him in earnest. Fitz unbuttoned the rest of her pajama top until all of her was revealed before him. He broke their kiss and grabbed one of her raisin colored nipples into his mouth.

He let it go with an audible pop. "It's good to be home. Warm now?"

Olivia looked momentarily confused before recognition dawned on her. Her note. She smiled down at him. "I may have been on fire at one point, but, yes I'm more than warm now." She wiggled atop his hips. "So you can have this back."

She removed Fitz's pajama top that she'd been wearing since last night, placing it beside him. She was fully naked now as she nonchalantly straddled her husband.

Fitz picked up the top and brought it to his nose. It smelled like her. He glanced at the cheekiness of the initials boasting on its breast pocket: 'OPG', the 'P' dominating the other letters. "Usually when person A gives person B a gift, person A doesn't monogram their own initials onto person B's gift."

"Well, those people aren't very bright. " She giggled.

"I love you. You know that?"

"I do know that. Yes." Olivia smiled, bending down to kiss him as he rubbed up and down her arms.

"It's Sunday," she sang.

"Mmmhmmmm," Fitz returned.

"I'm prayed up," she said gently thrusting her sex against his belly. "Give me a second hit of that hallelujah heroin. I'm ready to testify!" She started to softly bounce on him with one hand held in the air.

It started out as a rumble in his chest that vibrated up through Olivia's hand. Then a hearty chuckle. Fitz's eyes squeezed tight as his face turned red with hilarity over his wife's antics. She couldn't help but to start laughing, too, even as she had no clue what he found funny in her statement. Fitz finally wiped the tears from his eyes before speaking again.

"You want me to take you to church? You irreverent little minx." He reached up to take her chin between his thumb and index finger. "Livvie, I love your enthusiasm. But can I take a rain check?"

Olivia pouted in that way that Fitz found endearingly cute. But he was having none of it after an eternity of travel across so many time zones. He paused for effect before turning more serious.

"Besides, If you think that my threat, my insistence that you pray... amounted to 20 minutes of morning sex—fantastic as it was—you're not ready. It's not happening in this room."

A mischievous grin crossed her face. She knew what that meant: playtime. She leaned down close to his face. "Is that so, Sir Smug-a-lot. So when will you give it to me?"

He grabbed a hold of her firm-yet-pliant ass. "One day this week. Is there an evening you want me to avoid?"

"Let's see... Monday, Tuesday. Possibly Wednesday. Oh, Thursday and Friday are looking pretty bad, too."

Fitz started tickling her for her insolence, flipping them both so that he was now on top of her. She relented.

"Ok! Ok! Only Tuesday. Tuesday is bad. I'm doing round one interviews for potential hires. I'm still wrapping up with that DC Madame case, so I have to do it after my day is done. I'll be home late. 9-ish, maybe."

"That's fine. I've got to prep for Wednesday's Dean interviews."

Olivia swept her thigh over Fitz's.

"This is a very suggestive position, Mrs. Grant. No means no."

A moniker used almost exclusively by Fitz and the utility companies, 'Mrs. Grant' suddenly made her think of the woman who previously held that title. A connection she almost never made. She shook her head to banish the association.

"Livvie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I... Mellie popped into my head for some reason." And then the reason came to her. "Wait, she called you. What happened, exactly. You were very vague. And what chicanery did she pull to get that number?"

Fitz yawned. "Picture it. Sicily, 1942—"

Olivia swatted his chest, then playfully sunk her teeth into his pectoral muscle. He vibrated with laughter. She both hated and loved his corniness. "Is that what you did during your delay? Watch _Golden Girls_ reruns on your iPad? Seriously, tell me. I need to know what we're dealing with."

* * *

_**/Osaka, Eight Days Ago/**_

"_Hello"_

"_We need to talk."_

"_Not until you tell me how you got this number, Mellie."_

"_Fitz, relax. Your secretary gave it to me."_

"_She would never."_

"_You'll just have to ask her about that, won't you. Listen—"_

"_Do you know the awkward position you are putting me in by making contact with the president of the university you are applying to. The president who ultimately approves the hiring of every Dean, including the one for the Law Center. __Is this your way ensuring that I recuse myself from this process? __To clear the path for your presumed victory?"_

"_Fitz, please. I know you hate me after we've—"_

"_No, it's the opposite, in fact. I am emphatically ambivalent about you. Hating you would require effort. But I do hate that you have no compunction about putting me and my family in an awkward position. Why are you applying for this job anyway?"_

_Her mind was caught on one thing only. She was flummoxed, but refused to let him know that._

"_F-f-family?" she stammered briefly before recovering. "Oh, congratulations are in order," she said in mocking enthusiasm. "You and your little brown bunny have successfully spawned? I cou—"_

_The crash of the hard plastic against plastic was a small consolation to Fitz's irritation in that moment. That's one thing mobile phones could not satisfy. Though his anger had waned in the years since their protracted demise, Mellie's ability to antagonize him remained unparalleled. _

_The phone rang moments later, and he knew it was her. Again. Fearing that she would call his mobile, creating a record of direct contact with him, he answered through clenched teeth. _

"_What."_

"_That was small of me. I... It won't happen again. I hadn't heard, and wasn't expecting that news. Fitz, you have to understand what it's like for me. The irony of you and my divorce attorney ending up together. Making babies. Especially after—"_

_Fitz had heard enough to know where this was going. He would not abide her martyrdom with a shred of sympathy. She hadn't offered him much when they were both grieving. It happened to her, through her. Yes. But it happened to him, too. _

"_Mellie, listen to me carefully. Five: her name is Olivia, and she's not just my wife, she's my family. Four: whatever babies we have, or have not made, is none of your damn business. Three: we are not divorced because we were never married. We had an annulment because of your lies. Two: Get. Over. It! I am done suggesting you move on. I now require it. And finally: state your business because when I put phone down this phone, I will not pick it up again. If you call my mobile, I will have to report your intervention to the Provost and the Center's governing board."_

"_That's why I'm calling. I know better than to ask for any favors at this point. But, given our history, I want to ensure that you won't..." She searched for the right words. "Be an obstacle. We can be professionals, and work together. Right, Fitz?"_

"_What you are doing right now is not very professional. It's highly unethical. But then again, ethics has never been your strong suit. Has it." It was an unfair dagger, but one he couldn't bring himself to regret. _

_It was one Mellie couldn't ignore. "I have done nothing but love and support you. Still you treat me this way..."_

_Fitz's laughter was without mirth. The emotionally barren landscape of his three year stint with Mellie flashed through his mind. It wasn't all bad, but '_love'_ and '_support'_. He didn't think Mellie understood those terms. Not until his relationship with Olivia did he come to fully comprehend those terms. And they were both still learning. _

"_Mellie..." She had already exhausted him. "I don't have time."_

"_Fine, Fitz," she huffed. "I don't want to do this with you. You have hurt me enough as it is. Please. Just promise you won't thwart this for me."_

_Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation. She had not changed. But he had. And he was going to end this now. _

"_Mellie, you have my word that I will not obstruct your path in this interview process. If you fail, or succeed, it will be on your own steam. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to catch."_

* * *

"Wow. She's exactly the same since last I saw her." Olivia scrunched her face as she looked in her chest of drawers for something simple to wear around the house. She'd be showering after breakfast. "As uncomfortable as the thought of a Dean Mellie Grant makes me, you did the right thing. Besides, she still has to impress a whole committee of people." She closed the drawer. "Twice." Olivia began to get dressed as they continued their conversation. "Are you on breakfast, or am I?"

Fitz shot her a sympathetic look.

Feigning to be a downtrodden housewife, she dramatically cast the back of her hand against her forehead. "If I must. But you're not getting it in bed. You have to get up and stay active to fight the jetlag."

"I'm getting up. I promise." Fitz watched Olivia put on pair of leggings and a sumptuous wrap-around cashmere top. He continued with their earlier conversation.

"Everyone on the shortlist is more than qualified—one, or two, that would be an excellent fit for the University. I don't think the Committee will be too swayed by Mel's saccharine affectations. What concerns me most is that she doesn't need this position. She is co-founder and partner of a law firm, for Christ's sake. What on earth does she want with a deanship? "

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed and turned to Fitz. She cocked her head thoughtfully to the side.

Fitz watched the flicker of the light bulb above his wife's head. "Liv, I promised her."

"Precisely," she pointed. "_You_ promised." She threw a knowing smirk over her shoulder as she exited their bedroom.

Fitz grabbed his pyjama bottoms off the floor, willing himself to leave the comfort of his bed, still perfumed with the smell of her hair and their morning devotion.

"FITZGERALD THOMAS GRANT THE THIRD!"

_Shit, the glass_, Fitz thought. He couldn't get his pants on fast enough.

* * *

_**/Monday/**_

"Lauren!" The urgent boom of Fitz's baritone flooded its way into Lauren's adjacent office, causing her to move with haste to investigate the aggravation in his tone.

"Sir?"

Fitz folded his hands onto his desk, leaning forward. "Lauren, there's a bit of a mystery I need you to solve for me. We've been in constant communication during my trip to Japan. And I was explicit about contacting me. Only you and my wife knew where I was staying. How did Melody Swift get hold of my hotel in Osaka? You've had no absences while I've been gone, have you?"

"President Grant, I don't know who that is. I've been here every day. I did not pass on your contact details to anyone. It wasn't necessary."

Fitz's hand curled to support his jaw as his index finger propped up his temple. He searched Lauren's face as she stood there fidgeting, willing herself to think like Nancy Drew. She cast her eyes in every direction but Fitz's un-impressed face.

It was nearly time for her hour-long lunch, something Fitz had insisted his staff take. He argued that it impeded burn-out, and forced people away from their desks. Something 30-minute breaks did not encourage. Lauren's stomach lurched ferociously. "Sorry, sir." Just then, Lauren's impatient stomach helped her make the connection. "I think I have an idea of what happened. Let me confirm and I'll get back to you."

* * *

"Abby, close the door," Olivia said as she sat back down at her desk. "I need you to find out what Melody Swift has been up to in the last few years."

"Fitz's ex-wife?"

"Technically they were never married. At least not in the public record."

Abby's eyes careened to the heavens. "Liv, don't Clinton me with words. You know what I mean. The woman he was fucking before you. What's the difference? You were still banging Edison when you met Fitz, anyway. It all worked out in the end."

Olivia looked up from the Marquette file on her desk to glare at Abby. Her inappropriateness knew no bounds. Abby, not bothering to look contrite, shrugged instead.

"I mean, what's she hiding. The firm she founded nine years ago has been booming for the last six years," Olivia emphasized. "She loves her practice. Why would she want to give that up to be full-time Dean of Georgetown's Law Center? Why academia? Why now?"

"Maybe it's not the job. Maybe it's what the job will give her."

"My gut tells me there's distress somewhere. I've worked with this woman before." Recalling the revelation she couldn't suppress during the annulment proceedings, Olivia pointed at Abby. "Get Huck to check into her financials."

"And if there is something, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not sure. Just start digging." _Just what is your game, Mellie Swift_, Olivia thought.

* * *

**/Tuesday Evening/**

It was after 9 PM, and Olivia was nearly home, her path unhampered by the usual fog of the city's rush hour traffic. She pressed the button controlling her window. Yesterday's thunderstorm had lowered the temperature significantly. Olivia let the cool breeze caress her face as she breathed in deeply. She was on edge, unable to relax. Her first round of interviews for a new Gladiator were uneventful. A cornucopia of very accomplished men and women who said all the right things, yet were intensely boring.

She knew all of her Gladiators through personal connection. Marcus Walker wasn't her typical hire. He was everything Harrison had made him out to be: smart, passionate, talented, impeccable organizational skills and a strong commitment to justice. But he was also young. His racial politics, rigid; his maleness, unyielding. This had been her reading of the dossier on him, presented by Harrison. Used to being the one in control in his world, could Marcus Walker relinquish that to respect her authority and vision? After her interviews tonight, she would ask Harrison to finally set up a meeting. He was drawn to him and, respecting Harrison's judgement, she would consider the pros and cons of what Marcus could offer OPA.

* * *

"Oh no...Fiiitz!" I've had an incredibly long day. I told you," Olivia said in exasperation as she spotted her husband. Having walked into their home, Fitz—gallant in a dove grey suit and crooked smirk—strode toward her. What looked to be a corsage box rested in his hand. The other adjusted his emerald tie.

Fitz was expecting this exact reaction. He said nothing as he strode across the ebony, herringbone- patterned, wood floor.

"You're home. Finally." Distracting her with a searing kiss, he skilfully wrested her bag from her hand. He replaced it with the rectangular-shaped white box he was holding.

She ignored the intoxication of his closeness. The whiff of his fresh, soapy, amber fragrance that courted her nose. That he had shaved. That the tips of his hair were still slightly damp with whatever 'bro'-branded product he was experimenting with this week. She remained planted in the same place he left her, eyelids fluttering in disbelief

"Fitz." She said before calmly continuing. "Did you make surprise plans for us to go out? _After_ I told you on Sunday that I would be home late today. Tuesday. It's the one day I asked you to avoid."

After placing Olivia's bag inside the mudroom's closet, Fitz walked toward the kitchen. The microwave pinged impatiently.

"I know. That's why I chose tonight. I told you it would be a surprise."

She followed him, box in hand, shaking her head as her annoyance mounted.

"Fitz, I've used up so much energy to—" Olivia stopped in her tracks. The dining area just off their spacious kitchen was awash in the soft light of candles. The table, fully dressed, contained a bevy of colourful and inviting fare. A slim vase filled with white orchids, their petals sprayed in magenta, brightened the atmosphere. A bottle of vintage Châteauneuf-du-Pape—a gift from Cyrus and James—awaited her. Lagavulin for him.

"Have a seat, Livvie. I've got this."

"I'm sure you do, but—"

"No, I've got _this_ in my hand, and it's very hot. Have a seat. Please."

Olivia placed the box on the table and sat down. Her legs and arms folded. Fitz placed a container of hot, steamy, rice on the table before sitting down, catty corner to Olivia.

"This looks lovely," she said, recognizing the Japanese-themed spread. Her voice had not lost its edge. "Fitz, I really just wanted to come home after a long day of plotting and planning, topped off by listening to the most boring people... and just be here. With you. I don't have the energy for whatever playtime you've planned. Anyway, weren't you supposed to be preparing for tomorrow's interviews?"

"You don't know what I've been doing."

She cleared her throat as she looked pointedly at the spread in front of her.

He continued. "...because you haven't actually let me speak."

"Speak."

"Thank you. I can prepare for more than one thing. I have a whole team of people to ensure that. Now, as for you..." Fitz reached for Olivia's hand. After a moment she uncrossed her arms and gave him her left hand. Fitz kissed the rings he'd placed on her finger years ago. "I asked for the day you wanted me to avoid because I knew that would be the day you'd most likely be tense. I thought you'd be badly in need of release. From the way your shoulders have stayed up 'round your ears, am I right?"

Her shoulders began to climb down. "You're not wrong. But—" She stopped herself to consider if the conversation she wanted to have would dissolve the evening he had planned.

"There's more. It's not just the day you've had," Fitz intervened. "Is it about trying to get pregnant? I know I was away while—" He also knew how hard she worked to diffuse this concern.

"Yes. No. I mean yes, there's more. No, it's not about getting pregnant. Sort of." Since Sunday a disquiet had settled within her. From blithe dismissal to pornographic obsession, the problem she had made her burden had festered. But it wasn't her problem. It was theirs. She tried to figure out how to frame it to him without seeming petty and jealous.

Seeking to massage the moment with ease, Fitz joked "Is it because I declined a round two?" He shook his head. "First you brand me as your property, then you treat me like a thoroughbred. Putting me out to pasture next?"

She feigned offence. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't know I was in the presence of God's gift! I _let_ you decline me. I can have you whenever I want. You're so easy."

"You wound me, Liv." He clutched his heart. "'Have' me," he repeated. "I'd really like to see you try."

"Are you challenging me?"

Knowing better than to challenge one of the most competitive overachievers he had ever met, he switched course. "So... you were saying?"

Olivia stared in smug satisfaction. _This is what he does_, she thought appreciatively. She was starting to feel better already, but still needed to confess her concerns. Otherwise, whatever he had planned would be for naught.

"It's about Mellie."

"Here we go."

"Fitz. It's not what you think."

He shouldn't have been surprised. Olivia's response to the conversation he relayed on Sunday had been almost clinical, countenancing no emotion. Instead her mind shifted into fixer mode.

"I meant what I said. I think you were right not to impede her path in this selection process. But, if she's successful, I can't say I'm delighted with the idea of her being involved in our lives again. You remember how it was when we finally started dating." Her brows knitted at the memory. "I'm not afraid of her."

"Don't I know it." Fitz squeezed her hand.

"But. I don't want to have to deal with her in any way. Especially if we get pregnant."

Fitz shot her a wounded look. This time, it wasn't pretend. It was real.

"When, Mr. Optimistic." She placed her hand on top of his. "When." She smiled softly at him, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

"Livvie, Mellie—if she succeeds—will be my problem. She will have nothing to do with us. And certainly not with our future child."

"Don't you mean 'spawn'. Isn't that what she said?"

"Liv..."

"Don't be naive, Fitz. Only Provost Cunningham stands between you and the Center's Dean. She will be in your professional and social circle. And you will bring all of that home with you. You know how she lashes out when she is jealous, or spurned."

"Jealous?" Fitz huffed.

"She's clearly not over the death of your son." Fitz flinched, preferring to look on in fascination at the Greco-Roman pattern of his napkin's edge. "And neither are you."

"Liv." He wasn't prepared for the detour this evening took.

Olivia stood up from her chair and removed her suit jacket, the color of strawberry milkshake. She moved to sit sideways on Fitz's lap, placing her arm protectively around his shoulder. She brought his face in line with hers, waiting for his eyes to meet hers.

"This evening is supposed to be about you. You haven't even opened the box. It's a gift—of sorts—from Tokyo."

"It can wait. This evening is about _you_ and _me_." Olivia let his silence linger a moment before she offered, "Look at me." He wasn't quite there, but she would show him all the patience he afforded her.

"There you are," she said when he finally met her sympathetic stare. "Fitz, I know you because you let me know you. I don't need you to be what you think I need you to be: a pillar of strength for my sake. Not all the time. When you were recalling your conversation with Mellie, I felt how rigid your body was at specific points. Just as I notice now. You told Mellie to move on, but have you? From losing Gerry, I mean?"

His exhale was slow, jagged and onerous. Of course he had moved on. It had been six years. He had let go of the anger, the sense of injustice over the loss. But the memory—that he could not shake, no matter how much he tried for the sake of moving forward. The memory of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, IV was not something he could ever give up. He would always be his first child. The first one he cradled in his arms. The first one he named. The one whose 23-minute long life left an indelible impression. The pitchfork of tears were stabbing at the gates of his eyes. He would grant them no exit. He gulped visibly. Audibly.

Fitz's pained expression confirmed what Olivia had suspected. "I know you've already said I'm enough for you. Too much, sometimes—remember?" She nudged his shoulder with her body.

He laughed then, clearing his sinuses. He dabbed at his eyes. "Yeah, I remember."

"Fitz, I want to one day have our child. After 13 months of disappointment, I still need your optimism. It makes me believe that either way, we will figure it out. But..." She didn't like to think this way, but being accustomed to thinking of multiple outcomes, and with a stark example from the past, she had to face the elephant in the room. "What if we meet the same fate? I need to know what happened with you and Mellie, after Gerry, won't happen to us."

Fitz's left hand squeezed Olivia's waist. His right hand smoothed up and down her bare arm as he looked at her with glassy eyes.

" I am already a father. Nothing will ever erase Gerry's memory for me. You have to know that. Mellie's dishonesty aside, we were never right for each other and that's my fault. Gerry's death forced me to stop ignoring that fact. My son is dead, but I'm alive. And that's because of you. "

"Olivia, do you know why I married you?"

She felt bashful then, her sculpted cheekbones awash in crimson.

"Besides the fact that I'm lucky to have you, I cannot live without you. That's not _Jerry Maguire_ schmaltz. That's not co-dependence. It's an acknowledgment of the truth. You are...a marker in time. I wasn't living before I met you. What's worse, I didn't know it." He tipped her chin to look directly into the sunlight of her honeyed eyes. "I want to have a baby with you. Two babies, I think." He smiled and the joy reached Olivia's face, too.

"I didn't understand love's true capacity until I met you. Death is a part of life, and you've made me view life in a bigger, fuller way. You are the giver of life _and_ the light of my own." He stilled his movements and held her gaze. "So, Olivia Carolyn Pope, I promise you this: there is nothing that could happen to make me walk away from you. From us. Not a thing. We've learned that the hard way."

Olivia shook her head at the memory of their early dating life.

"And no matter how many times you need to hear that, I will tell you, " Fitz finished with a squeeze.

Olivia raised her left hand to entwine with the one gripping her waist, feeling their rings clink against each other like in a toast. _How did she get so lucky?_, she thought. Like magnets, their mouths moved to connect. She couldn't get enough of him. She never would.

Fitz broke their kiss, letting it peter out with little pecks. "Now, come on, you need to eat. Do you want to stay where you are, or go back to your seat?"

_**To be continued in Part B...**_

* * *

**A/N:** Look at me, giving you a second update in the same month! Just as I promised. lol. Actually, three updates (part B will be up in a bit). This dinner has phases, and it that leads into some interesting action. I absolutely had to split it up to make it more digestible. Please let me know what you think about Mellie this first part of the episode. Goodness, I didn't even realize Fitz was hiding all that pain until I got to the dinner scene. That suprised me. What do you guys think?


	5. Episode Four B: Say Yes

Say Yes

"_You know what's been the most delightful part about you tonight?"_

"_Delightful? Dee. Light. Ful."_

"_Yes, delightful."_

"_Ok, what was so delightful?"_

"_How polite you are when I'm fucking you."_

* * *

_**/Tuesday Night, continued/**_

From the various containers on the table, Fitz assembled a vegetarian Donburi for Olivia, filled with iron-packed ingredients. Beef would have been better, but he didn't think she would want a meat-heavy dish at that hour.

"I've worked so hard to put a hot meal on the table for you, and now it's almost cold."

"Really? Because when I called two hours ago, Lauren said—"

Fitz reached to cover her mouth before she ruined the illusion of his dinner efforts.

Olivia found this surprisingly comical, collapsing in laughter on his shoulder. Fitz quickly drew his hand away.

"Did you just drool on me?!" He wiped his hand on the ivory napkin on the table. "It's worse than I thought. You're practically rabid! Liv, come on, eat." Reminding her of the anemia diagnosis from three months ago, he added " Doctor's orders, remember?" Now considering himself an expert at wielding chopsticks, Fitz scooped up a small heap of rice, spring onion, spinach, tofu and broccolini.

Olivia recovered from her fit of laughing and drooling. "That's a lot of spinach," she observed.

"Well, you need your strength."

She groaned in satisfaction as the flavors of the mirin seasoning and fresh ingredients blended together in her mouth. "Mmmmmm, I was _really_ hungry, Baby."

Fitz watched her lick her lips. "You like that?"

Olivia was still sitting across Fitz's lap as he fed her. The blunt nails of his right hand stroked her pant-covered thigh. There was nothing infantile about the moment.

"Do you?" He asked again.

Olivia heard the shift in his register. Her bourbon-colored eyes, through impeccably mascara-ed lashes, looked down at his mouth. The energy she was lacking earlier started percolating through her like coffee through an espresso machine.

She nodded her head.

"Tell me," he beseeched.

"Yes."

"Oh, I do love it when you say that."

The anticipation mounting, Fitz scooped a few more heaps of food into Olivia's mouth as they continued to eye each other. He the hunter to her prey. Prey. Pray. He had asked her to pray.

She remembered the box given to her earlier. "What's inside?"

"That's for you to find out." From sexy to infectiously charming, such was the transformation when he flashed her his impeccable teeth.

Olivia opened the white box to find a black velvet pouch. She giddily loosened its draw string to pull out a black satin eye mask and a mass of thick, corded, vermillion silk, looped at both ends and wrapped around itself in the middle. She held the materials in one hand, her face a cocktail of intrigue, titillation, and slight bewilderment.

Fitz intervened. "Do you remember asking me what I wanted to try?"

"I do. We were in the bath," Olivia recalled. I've been wondering why you hadn't made a move. You have plenty of silk neck ties."

He chuckled darkly. "That's amateur."

"Which, frankly, when it comes to this lifestyle, is the level we're on."

"Really? Squeezing my hand around your neck as you come is amateur?"

"That's different," she protested. "It doesn't involve equipment." She shook the silk bundle. "This...is not amateur."

"I am a Rhodes Scholar and a PhD, not to mention the Yale law degree. You were first in your class at both Princeton and Georgetown Law. We're at the top of our fields. And you—you are set to colonize the world with Olivia Pope and Associates. Liv, 'amateur' is not in our DNA."

She had been listening to his monologue as she ran the end of the bundle of rope against the buttery bronze skin of her forearm.

"Did you just try to Pope me?"

"Did it work?"

In lieu of a reply, she ran the rope along the sculpted line of his jaw. Fitz savored the feel of the silk against his face.

Olivia observed him carefully. _Shower, shampoo _and _a shave. Meticulously prepared. _She thought.

Fitz recovered the rope from her hand. "Livvie, do you want this?"

She had to admit that she was curious at the thought of having no control over what he would do to her. She only had one question. "Will it hurt me?"

"This is Japanese silk rope, used in the ancient bondage art of Shibari. The binding and the knotting are meant to communicate an erotic energy. A spirit..." He kissed her tempting shoulder. "Mind..." His lips landed on her neck. "And body connection," he whispered against the bounty of her pink-stained lips.

Olivia, whose eyes were closed, exhaled a puff of air. He kissed her sweetly before adding, "It won't hurt you and neither will I. Unless by invitation."

She smiled and so did he, recalling a spanking session from a few months ago. He had put her over his knee, and made excellent use of his massive palms. Olivia had never been so wet. Deciding they would make that a regular part of their repertoire, she bought their first paddle the next day.

"So what do you say?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Here are the rules."

"Ooooooh, rules." Olivia playfully mocked as she shimmied against a now shirtless Fitz—clad only in the heather grey trousers of his suit from earlier. That's as far as she had gotten when she tried to convince him to join her in the shower, after dinner. She had slipped into something more comfortable that looked not unlike a lace bathing suit. Made of sheer, black, stretched-Leavers lace with paneled piping of silk-satin running down the front and back. A deep V stretching to the bottom of her sternum highlighted her graceful neck and supple skin.

They were in their basement playroom. They had not yet tested the bondage bed delivered shortly before Fitz's departure to Japan. It was canopied, conveying an intimate feel. Unlike the headboard in their bedroom, this one was made of latticed wrought iron in the middle, surrounded by mahogany wood panels embedded with reinforced steel hooks.

Fitz could think of little else but a writhing and eager Olivia spread out in front of him, her wrists lovingly wrapped in Japanese silk. Tied to a couple of those hooks. He wanted her to find pleasure in complete and total capitulation under his erotic commands. Running his hands up and down her back, he leaned in to take her lips between his. The pace, languid. Her tongue, luxurious against his. Fitz finally broke the kiss.

"Yes, rules, naughty girl."

Unable to contain herself, Olivia broke out into song. "_Tonight, I'll be your naughty girl. Uhhn, I'm taking all my—_"

Fitz scooped her up unceremoniously, which caused her to guffaw. She was practically in hysterics by the time he plopped her onto the bed. He knelt between her legs, bent at a ninety degree angle. Her laughter, his favorite sound, echoed through the room. He waited.

Regaining her composure, Olivia regarded him then as he looked down at her, hunger in his eyes. To her, he was majestic. His chest was meticulously sculpted—sinewy and firm like that of a thoroughbred's. A memory of the first time she laid eyes on him flashed through her mind. Fitz was shirtless then, doing pull ups with his legs crossed. A frisson of desire had flowed through her that uneventful day. She was chagrined to later find he was the husband of her client.

But he was hers now. Olivia reached out to run her hands up and down the smooth hair on his chiseled abs. Her breathing shifted as she thought of his firm ridges rubbing against the plane of her belly. Her chest heaved up and down. She had never not wanted him.

"May I, Beyonce?"

"You may."

"Tonight, you don't have to make any decisions. All you have to do is say 'yes' to what I'm giving you." His palms made circles on the outside of her thighs. "Remember, you're saying 'yes' to _you_—what you feel, what you want. _I_ want what you want, so you're saying 'yes' to me, too." He grazed his thumb over her lips. "Say yes, Livvie."

"Yes."

"I've been thinking. Our word, 'pineapple'? Too many syllables. I've come up with something better, should you wish to stop. It's guaranteed to draw the sexy to a standstill." He paused for dramatic effect. "Mellie."

Olivia tittered in approval at their new safe word.

"I love you, Fitz. OK."

"Uhhn uhhn uhnn". He warned, his face expectantly waiting for her correction.

"Yes, Fitz."

He wrapped her legs around his waist, leaning down to rest his covered sex against hers.

"The rules: If you want something, you say, 'please'. If you like something, you say 'yes'."

Olivia fully understood. She canted her hips, seeking the friction she desired.

"Are we clear, beautiful?"

"Yes."

* * *

Olivia blushed from the way Fitz was looking down at her. She didn't think her face could get any hotter. She was about to be wrong.

"I like what you're wearing. I would tell you to take off your clothes, but I suppose I'll have to do that." Each of Olivia's wrists were bound with the silk rope, and secured to steel hooks in the bed.

Fitz hooked his finger behind the scrap of cloth between Olivia's legs. He ran the back of his index finger, repeatedly, over the velvet of her folds. Feeling the surge of blood and heat causing her lips to swell, Fitz groaned. "I love touching you."

"More, please" she responded.

Fitz snapped open the closures of her bodysuit, revealing her to him. He gently inserted the width of his middle finger inside her before withdrawing it again. He massaged the gossamer liquid all over her mound, making Olivia wind her hips.

He looked up at her face. Her eyes were fixed on him. "You are delectable. Do you know that?" He stared back down at his ministrations in endless fascination at what he'd seen so often. "And so beautiful." He had not savored her in this way for so long.

Fitz made her feel adored and wanton all at once. Wet and pining, her aroma, decanted, wafted up to greet his nostrils. He placed his face at the mouth of her cunt, running his nose along her slit. Like nothing else he knew, her smell made him heady and hard. So hard. He gave her a broad lick.

"Delicious, too."

He dove in for more, sweeping up her clit and folds into his accommodating mouth.

"Oh, please, Fitz!"

He moved his hand beneath her ass, the lace now a real hindrance.

"It zips on the side" She reminded him.

Now literally naked, save the lashings of corded silk around her wrists, there was no escaping his gaze. His eyes ran the length of her whole body. He settled on her chestnut honey eyes.

"I love the way you taste. Don't you?"

Olivia friskily awaited a game they frequently played. One she loved. He knew how shamelessly wanton it made her feel. She began to lick and suck on his lips as they devoured each other's mouths. He ground his hardness into her wetness.

"Fitz, take off your pants. I need you. Please...I can't."

"Oh, but you _can_. And you will." He squeezed the tip of her nipple between his fingers. "You are not in charge of everything." She smirked against his lips as he nuzzled her nose.

Ultimately she knew that she was in charge. If she uttered even the edge of the name 'Mellie', Fitz would halt, even mid-stroke, if she was in distress. She found safety in that knowledge.

* * *

"Open your legs for me. Wide."

Fitz had removed his pants finally, but not before he discretely rescued, from its pockets, one of Olivia's bullet vibrators from her bedside table.

"You know those Snapchat videos you would send to me while I was away?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. They made me realize how much I love having you spread out in front of me, watching you pant. Watching your breasts bounce. Watching your flushed face scrunch up in want. In need. Watching your abs sink in and your rib cage push out as you arch your back when you come. I am so glad I get to touch you."

The unexpected sound and jolt from the vibration against her pussy, startled Olivia. She was so wrapped up in Fitz's face as he lavished her with praise.

"What are you doing to me?" Olivia sighed breathily, taking in the vibrations coursing through her core and ensnaring her whole body in a matrix of pleasure.

"I wanna watch you come. Like in your videos, except longer. And I wanna touch you while you do it. But you're not allowed to come unless you tell me first. Is that clear?"

The hum of the toy was already whipping her into a frenzy. She was too busy biting down on her lip, pushing and pulling on her restraints. Olivia's legs leap-frogged up and down the white sheets. Her pink satin headband—to keep the soft waves of her hair off her face—slipped further and further forward as her head lashed back and forth.

Fitz turned the vibration up a notch to grab her attention, causing her to growl. She squeezed her thighs from the overwhelming sensation.

"Fuck, Fitz! Yes!"

He turned it back down and swept her headband back from the edge of her widow's peak.

Fitz watched as her entire body flushed with heat, and sweat began percolating on her brow. Her chest. The crease of her upper thigh. As his left hand worked the toy against her, running it up to the manicured patch above her folds and back down. Over and over. It seemed impossible for her to be more beautiful than she was right now.

Fitz grabbed the fullness of his cock, stroking it before readying himself at her entrance. He began to see the tell tale undulation in her lower abdomen.

"Oh, shiiiiit..." Olivia was on the precipice of shattering, he breathing rapid and violent. That's when he did it.

His heavy head tunneled inside her cove, angling himself just right against her walls.

"Yessss, pleeeeeaaase don't stop." She begged. The relentless vibration, the feel of his cock swelling inside her, all of it threatening to flood them with her pleasure.

And then the levies broke. She made an unintelligible keening sound. That's when he felt her, saw her, come apart before him. It took all his resolve not to come. Not yet.

* * *

"I'm not done tying you up, yet. First, let me enjoy you like this."

Fitz stood behind Olivia. She, too, was standing, facing the door, her hands suspended and tied above her head. Running his short blunt nails along Olivia's forearms, he continued his path down her arms, over her ribs and ticklish sides.

She shuddered, breaking out in a galaxy of goose pimples all over her body. He made her feel rejuvenated, replenished from his every lick, bite, suck.

Fitz continued to kiss a path down her back as he kneeled. Being on his knees gave him a prime view of Olivia's glorious ass, honed through swimming and running. Grabbing a cheek, he began to nibble on its pert fullness.

"God, your body is amazing. I want to consume every inch of you." He was palming both cheeks now. "Tell me I can."

"Yes."

Fitz didn't know what came over him. He was heady with lust for her. He wanted to try what he never deigned to do before. His face was ensconced in the valley of her pillowy backside, his tongue exploring new territory. The taboo feeling had him reaching to stroke his engorged dick with one hand, while the other massaged between Olivia's thighs.

"Jesus, Fitz." Everything he was doing to her felt so good. Too good." His assault on her body seemed never ending. She didn't want it to end, but she needed him inside her.

* * *

Fitz discarded the intimate wipe, landing the equivalent of a 3-point score after throwing it across the room into the waste basket. He turned around to survey his Shibari work with Olivia. He smiled at his handy work. The two lessons he had in Tokyo were paying off nicely.

"I wanna see you. Please, Fitz, let me see you."

He ran the inside of his bottom lip teasingly along her top lip. "Shhhhhh..." he said. It caused the bound an blind-folded Olivia to quiver in surprise.

She was spread eagle, facing Fitz, her back against the door of their playroom. The silk rope was tied expertly above each knee so that her legs dangled several inches off the ground. That rope attached to the loops binding her arms above her head. Everything was supported by a pole above the door's frame.

The hot bar of Fitz's erection pressed into Olivia's abdomen as he leaned into her. He moved to take her earlobe between his lips, stealing a nibble. He fisted his turgid dick, saturating it in her copious wetness and tapping it against her engorged clit—a sure fire way to make Olivia plead.

"Fiiiiitz..."

"Do you wanna know what I want?"

"Please."

Fitz palmed her the swell of her ass. His raging head at attention. As he pierced his way inside her, he whispered against her lips, "I want you to see God."

"Oh, God, fuck me. Please" she mewled into his mouth.

The zephyr of her keening cry spurred him on. Fitz kept assaulting her sensitive right ear with nasty little nothings, as the raw ambition of his cock relentlessly sought her pleasure.

"I love how wet you get for me."

Like a self-fulfilling prophesy, her cunt flooded him in response.

"I wanna be saturated in nothing but you."

He had her in a crucible of ecstasy. His words. His dick. His...him. _He _was making her lose her mind. She didn't know whether to cry or crawl out of her skin. How much more could she take? She was going to find out.

Fitz ceased driving into Olivia's core. Placing both breasts in his palms, he bent down to graze his teeth against the smooth skin between them.

"Babyyyyy..." Olivia cried out. "I need to see you."

Fitz rushed to remove the black satin mask from her eyes. Olivia looked over the harmoniously handsome features on his golden sand-colored skin.

"Hi."

"Hi." She angled for his lips and he gave them to her. But he was not done with her yet. He was standing still, his forearms under her thighs. His hands, colonized her ass as he remained buried inside her. He lifted her up quickly.

She gasped.

Slowly he eased her back down onto him. He did this several times, enjoying every bite of her lip. Every quiver. Every knit of her brow. She was angled just right to feel the head of his dick stroke the spongy mass of nerves pressed against the walls of her cavern.

"Livvie," he said. "You want me to rub your clit, don't you?"

"Yesss."

"Beg me."

"Please, let me come. Please."

"Do it properly. Say my name."

"Fitz...Fitz, please let me come."

"Ooh, I like that. Say it again."

"Fitz..." The need was palpable in her eyes as she looked at him. The look he returned triggered something raw and unabashed inside her. "Please let me come. I need it. I deserve it. I fucking demand it!"

Having waited so long, he, too was ready to explode inside her. Fitz continued to drive into Olivia with gusto, as her suspended form was pressed up against the door. His thumb rubbed circles into her clit as his other hand reached for a nipple.

"Look at me," he said. "You are so nasty. And I love it." That finally broke her. She erupted into galaxies of stars, her eyes open, staring into the fully dilated pupils of her husband.

She was one of the great wonders of the world, he thought, as he convulsed inside her.

* * *

Back in their bedroom, Olivia lay prone, naked, across Fitz's thighs as he applied lotion to her back. When they were done with their playtime, Fitz carried Olivia upstairs and ran her a bath. He preferred a shower.

Having already inspected her thighs, he lifted both wrists to check for distress. He kissed them both.

"How do they feel? Your wrists? Your thighs?"

"Surprisingly fine," Olivia replied. "There's a little bit of a tingly feeling, but that's likely from the pressure applied."

He had saved his favorite place for last. Fitz gathered a dollop of body butter, warming it between his palms before slathering it on her bottom.

"You liked that, right?" He sounded almost tentative. "From your reaction, it seemed..."

" I'm surprised by how much I did like it. Yes." She considered what to say next. "But you don't... Umm, do you want me to..."

"God, no. That's from me to you only."

"Good, because I don't know I would manage to tie you up. I'm only little."

"Not that. The other thing." Fitz gave her bum a squeeze.

Olivia rolled over and moved to his side. "Why? How did you feel about it?"

"Liv, there's not a place on you I don't love. Not a place I don't want to be."

"You're so cute. But that's not an answer."

"I loved it, OK. I LOVED it. Can I do it again?"

She blushed. "If you must."

"You loved it." Fitz popped her nose. "You know what's been the most delightful part about you tonight?"

"Delightful? Dee. Light. Ful." She pondered. It was an absurd term to use given the various exercises they had done tonight. The dirty words they had exchanged.

"Yes, delightful." Fitz insisted.

"Ok, what was so _delightful_?"

"How polite you are when I'm fucking you." He began to mock her as if Olivia hadn't been following his directives. "Please, Fitz. Yes, Fitz." He batted his lashes, impersonating her.

She pounded her fists on his naked thigh, her laughter full of mirth. "I hate you!"

He kissed her forehead. "Never."

She stared at him, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me."

"Always."

* * *

_**/Wednesday/**_

A three-part knock sounded against Fitz's office door.

"Come in," Fitz responded.

Lauren opened his door to reveal the Provost, Jacob Cunningham, standing beside her, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his single-breasted navy blue suit. Tall, lanky, with a shot of grey hair like Einstein's. With a face marked by a cross-hatching of fine lines, no one—not even Jacob's wife—would call him handsome. But he was exacting, one of many reasons Fitz promoted him soon after landing the presidency.

Jacob stepped into the office, but not before Lauren could shoot Fitz a look of warning. Fitz caught that this would not be a casual visit. Not at this time of the morning. Not on this day.

"Jacob, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?" He looked at his Omega watch. "I thought you'd be making your way to the interview room at the Center. To what do I owe this visit?"

"Two words, Fitz: your ex."

* * *

**A/N**: Unusually, this time I have a lot to say, so here goes.

First, I hope you enjoyed this two part episode. I would really like to hear what you have to say-about Mellie popping back up, the revelations of the past and how the Grants will deal with that? Their sexytimes? Should Mellie get the job? As you can see, I need one more episode to resolve that issue before we jump back into the present day. FYI, as of this episode, we are about 6 weeks away from when episode one takes place. Recall that at the end of that episode, we find out Olivia is pregnant. By episode 6, I will be getting back to that because there are interesting stories to tell about the past (Olivia, Fitz, Olitz, their families) as they await their little bundle. Also, this is a story that focuses on the erotic life of Olivia and Fitz, so there will always be a sexual element, but not literal sex every time.

I never intended this to be a story when I wrote 'Royals' (episode one). That's why episodes 2-4 have gone back in time several months, so we can learn who these people are. It helped me to know where to go. I hope it hasn't been too confusing for you. As before, I will respond to any feedback (questions, concerns, criticism, etc) on my Tumblr (anincorrectpetunia). Thank you, again. **Please leave some feedback** :).


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